Beyond the Purge
by Misheard Whisper
Summary: The Jedi Order fell in flames. Those who survived became exiles, hunted down by the merciless henchmen of the new Empire that arose from the ashes. Vice-Admiral Thomas Kien left the Jedi Order eight years previously, but now he finds a target drawn on his back as well. Together with a young, naive Jedi Knight, he must flee - both from the Sith, and his past. Updates when possible.
1. The Purge

_Author notes: Because screw putting all this in the summary. Original story, mostly OCs, shouldn't conflict with movie canon much. Rated T for language and some violence._

* * *

 **Chapter One  
19 BBY  
0330  
Somewhere in the Mid Rim**

Vice-Admiral Thomas Kien was not having a good day.

First, the small Separatist fleet he had been tracking had vanished from all scopes, slipping away into hyperspace along an uncharted route. They could be anywhere in the galaxy by now. The subsequent daily report to Coruscant had been predictably frustrating, leaving him in a sour mood. Not long afterwards, word had reached the _Sunrise_ of an unexpected extension to her deployment; this did not help morale among the officers, although he knew the rank and file would take it on the chin as always. They had no families to return to, no homes gathering dust, no business to attend to while on shore leave. Of course, neither did Kien, these days. To top it all off, he had found himself completely unable to shake the mounting feeling of disquiet that had been creeping up on him over the past week or so.

All of these complaints whizzed dully by in the back of his head while Thomas Kien watched, horrified, as his bridge became a war zone.

One blaster shot of many whizzed past Kien's ear, dissipating violently on the blast-proof window behind him. Outside, the familiar serenity of space belied the turmoil inside his little metal and transparisteel box. Snapping back to reality, Kien cursed his reflexes, dulled by years away from the battlefield, and threw himself behind a console, rolling into a crouch and peering around the side to assess the situation. What he saw beggared belief. Half a dozen clone troopers – his own damned men – stood by the main entrance in perfect suppression formation, laying down covering fire as another squad advanced on –

 _Her_. Kien realised with a jolt that his knee-jerk conclusion had been misplaced. The clones were not even aiming for him or his officers. This was no mutiny – or was it? Their target was clear, and his heart sank into his stomach as his eyes caught up with his brain, skimming across to the Jedi Knight who, until a few moments earlier, had been sitting in silent meditation just metres from Kien's station.

As a young Pantoran – far too young for active duty, surely? – General Yuli Chath had sky-blue skin. Tall for a female, with fine, pointed features and sharp black eyes, she cut an impressive figure – or she would have, if she weren't desperately fighting for her life. Twirling her bright green lightsaber deftly, Chath deflected and dodged the incoming storm of laser fire as she retreated towards the front of the bridge. Cyan bolts hammered the ground around her, and the ones bouncing off her saber flew wild, the young Jedi lacking the necessary focus or intent to return them to her attackers.

"Stand down, troopers!" she pleaded, voice unsteady, but the hail of blaster fire continued unabated.

Kien cursed, lifting himself into a half-crouch to slam his fist on the emergency shutdown switch on his console. Red lights flashed, sirens wailed, and blast doors slammed down with a _crash_ at the various entrances to the bridge. Thumbing the intercom, he projected his voice across the command centre, barking orders over the cacophony.

"All non-combat personnel, fall back to port side egress. This is an emergency situation. Troopers on the bridge, cease fire! I repeat, _cease fire!_ " Kien watched anxiously as his officers scrambled away from the firing line, clustering at a smaller door on the port side. Still keeping an eye on the retreating Jedi, he opened the door remotely, ensuring that all the technicians and officers had passed through before slamming it closed again. He thought he saw a glimpse of white as the door irised shut, but he had to worry about the troopers _inside_ the bridge before he dealt with the ones outside.

Now that his priority – the men entrusted to his command – had been taken care of, Kien did something very foolish: he closed his eyes and stepped out from behind his rudimentary cover. Taking a deep breath, Kien shivered slightly as he allowed his mind to become still, falling back into an ancient meditation pattern. As his earpiece erupted with chatter from all corners of the _Venator_ -class cruiser, he plucked it out of his ear and set it aside, walking slowly toward where he had last seen the squadron of clone troopers.

Alarms still blared. Blasters shrieked. Somewhere behind him was the hiss and snap of the General's lightsaber, lasers ricocheting off it as she maintained her defensive stance. It was only a matter of time before she succumbed to the overwhelming pressure, though. Allowing the sounds to blend together and fade out into the background, he took another step. He felt lasers scream past his face, causing him to grit his teeth involuntarily. _Now is the time to take action_. Stepping forward once more, Kien opened his eyes, finding himself right in front of the lead trooper, who stopped firing in surprise. Glancing at the markings on the man's helmet, Kien identified him as Wire, a hardy Captain who had been assigned to the _Sunrise_ for nearly as long as the Vice-Admiral himself.

"Cease your fire, soldier," Kien ordered once again, despite the fact Wire had already done so. Trying to keep his voice level, he looked the Captain right in the faceplate and continued, "There will be no blood shed on my watch."

Wire hesitated, then held up a clenched fist to his men. The lasers petered out within a couple of seconds, though the troopers still held their blasters at the ready, trained on the Jedi. "Only because it's you, sir," Wire said. His voice, though masked by his helmet and identical to all of his brothers, was one Kien knew well. Today, it was pointedly studied and indifferent. Something was very wrong here. _As if I didn't know that already._

"I want an explanation for this, Wire," Kien said, just loud enough that only the man directly in front of him could hear over the blaring sirens. "And it had better be fucking good. As long as she is on my ship, the Jedi is under my protection."

Wire paused, as if uncertain how to continue. After a few seconds, he holstered his blaster and removed his helmet, though his men remained on alert. The clone looked more conflicted than Kien had ever seen him, and he refused to meet his eyes.

"I'm waiting," Kien said, trying to inject some semblance of command into his tone. He had to wrest control of the situation somehow, or this would only get worse. His mind was whirling at a hundred klicks an hour, trying to sort out the events of the past – how long? It felt like a lifetime, but it had been barely thirty seconds since all hell had broken loose. Glancing around, he saw that his bridge was in tatters. The blaster fire had been concentrated on Chath, so the area around her had taken the most damage, but stray fire and deflected shots had left their marks all over the command centre. One of the communication consoles sparked and belched smoke. That wasn't good.

"Sir," said Wire, straightening up, but not saluting. "With all due respect, sir, this situation is out of both your hands and mine."

"You're not making sense, soldier."

"Emergency order just came in, sir. The Jedi have attempted to stage a coup, kill the Chancellor and topple the Senate. All Jedi are to be treated as hostile and immediately terminated . . . sir." Wire did not exactly look pleased with the situation, but there was a spark of determination in his eye. Kien knew intuitively that the trooper had made up his mind.

"I don't believe a word of it." Without taking his eyes off Wire and his men, Kien raised his voice to address the young Jedi behind him. "General Chath! Is this true?"

"No, Vice-Admiral." Chath's voice trembled slightly. "I don't believe the Jedi Council would ever do such a thing. I'm certainly not a part of any such plot."

"Of course they wouldn't." _Wouldn't they?_ "The Jedi do not seek power, Wire. You and I have both served with them long enough to know that." _Haven't we?_ Kien cursed inwardly. This was rapidly spiralling out of control. Now that ominous feeling was beginning to make sense, but it was far too late. There were nearly twenty armed men on his bridge, waiting only on a word from their captain to execute an innocent woman, and Kien himself was the only one who could possibly stop it. _Think. Talk. Keep them talking. You've talked your way out of worse situations than this._ A bald lie, even to himself.

"Even so, sir. Orders are absolute. This directive comes straight from the Chancellor himself, and as such I cannot stand down." Wire still refused to meet Kien's eyes, speaking determinedly to a point somewhere above his superior's left shoulder.

"You have ceased fire," Kien noted.

"Only because you stepped in front of us, sir. With all due respect, that was a damn fool thing to do."

Despite the grim situation, Kien forced a smile. "I know this isn't what you want, Wire," he said. Feeling about with the fringes of his mind, Kien pushed gently, adding a little extra weight to his words. He had to be careful. He hadn't called on the Force in a long time, and it took a little extra effort to bend it to his will. "You will order your men to stand down."

Wire frowned. "No. I'm sorry, sir, but orders are orders. Squad, prepare to fire!" In one quick motion, the Captain donned his helmet once more and drew his blaster, stepping past Kien and taking aim at Chath again.

 _Shit._ With the reflective visor back in place, it would be damn near impossible to manipulate Wire now. Suggestion had failed. It was time to try something more direct.

But what? Twenty heavily armed troopers versus one young, inexperienced Jedi and a commissioned officer. Kien's hand twitched by his leg, wishing he was armed – if not with a saber of his own, at least with a blaster.

"Attack!" Wire barked. Time seemed to slow down. The clones opened fire, blaster rifles roaring. Chath fell back into the defensive Form V stance that she had dropped, forming a barrier with her lightsaber, blade moving faster than the untrained eye could follow. She had good form, a part of Kien's mind noted idly. Lacking finesse, but a very solid grasp of the basics. Even as he thought that, though, a single blaster shot clipped Chath's right arm, causing her to shriek and drop her lightsaber. She dived after it through a hail of blaster fire, scooping it up in her left hand and resuming her defence, but slowly. Clumsily.

Every instinct in Kien's body was tugging on him, trying to force him in different directions. Battlefield reflexes, dulled from lack of use, sloughed off their rust and screamed at him to run. His training kept him in place, however, a rock in the middle of a river of blaster fire. The troopers were taking care not to hit him, but how long would that last? Could he step in front of Chath and stop them from shooting once more? Or would he then be considered an accomplice and a traitor, accomplishing nothing but dying next to somebody he barely knew? He began to move without even really thinking about what he was going to do; only one thought crossed his mind: _Can I save her?_

 _Should I save her?_ An ice-cold thrill rooted him to the spot not a half-second later. He was an officer of the Republic Navy now, beholden to the will of the Senate and the Chancellor. It was no longer his place to stand beside the Jedi, as much as his instincts tried to convince him otherwise. Besides, Wire could have been telling the truth. It had been more than eight years since he was privy to Council politics; the Jedi could have turned on the Republic in that time.

 _No. No, they wouldn't! They couldn't . . ._

Another scream pierced his agonised thoughts, as a second blaster bolt found its way past Chath's guard and slammed into her shoulder. With a sudden moment of clarity, Kien knew he could not let this pass. _The hell with the Republic!_ As the clones closed in on the wounded Jedi, he broke past their ranks and barrelled towards her with a yell.

* * *

Yuli's mind was a white sheet of pain. Two sizzling blaster wounds on her right arm, one at the shoulder and one near her wrist. The arm hung uselessly at her side, forcing her to keep up her defence with her weaker hand. She could feel herself flagging, as she devoted all her remaining energy to warding off the unrelenting storm of blaster fire. How was she not dead yet? It would only be a matter of seconds. Already she could feel her consciousness wandering, pain shutting her down.

Gritting her teeth, Yuli grasped for her Jedi training. _Don't ignore the pain. Welcome it. Overcome it. Use it._ Master Sinto's words rang in her ears as she focused, dipping into the Force to numb her pain. There was too much turmoil in her to fully utilise it, though. Why was this happening? How did she suddenly find herself staring down the rifle barrels of men who had loyally served with the Jedi for years? Could there really have been a Jedi plot to seize control of the Republic?

Still, Yuli felt herself slipping. A sudden shout roused her temporarily, as a figure in grey leapt towards her, moving supernaturally fast. _Vice-Admiral Kien_ , she thought absently, though her vision blurred. Suddenly, her lightsaber was gone, wrenched from her hand before she could do anything about it. Kien was still five metres away, standing between her and the clones, brandishing something that glowed with a fiery green light. All pain and fatigue temporarily forgotten, Yuli rubbed her eyes and watched in shock as the tall, solidly-built officer wielded her lightsaber with expertise and confidence, forming a complete barrier of flashing green light as he twirled the weapon, repelling every single bolt.

For a blissful moment, Yuli was safe. "What . . ." she managed to croak out through the pain and surprise, but she never got to finish that thought. It was then that the entire ship shook and groaned, the bridge tossing bodies and equipment every which way. The sounds of distant explosions vibrated through the floor, and the troopers stopped firing as they were thrown to the ground. Miraculously, Kien stayed on his feet.

Dragging herself unsteadily to her feet, Yuli grasped a railing on the still-bucking bridge and scanned the starscape. On the starboard side, she spotted the unmistakeable bulbous façade of a Separatist cruiser. As she watched, a second cruiser came out of hyperspace in formation, guns blazing, followed by a third. Momentarily forgetting the attempt on her life, she watched in horror as the three Confederate battleships unloaded all of their considerable firepower on the lone _Sunrise_.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" Kien unloaded a string of increasingly vile curses as he struggled his way back over to the command console, still holding her lightsaber. Punching a button to silence the alarms that still shrieked across the bridge, he yelled into an intercom. "All personnel to battle stations! Three Separatist cruisers inbound!"

"It's hopeless," Yuli mumbled.

"I know," Kien said, causing her to jump. She hadn't expected him to hear her. "I think it's clear that this ship is doomed. We can't win against these odds, and I just sent all my officers off the bridge to who knows where. Oh, and there's the minor issue that every clone trooper on this bucket is probably after your head." He was angry. Furious, even. Not at her, she thought, but still. She could sense his rage, rolling off him in waves.

Yuli cringed. No part of her training had prepared her for this. She had completed a tour of duty on Geonosis; she'd been shot at, stabbed, buried alive under a collapsed building, and gotten lost in a sandstorm, but all her trials paled in comparison to this. Turned on by her own soldiers. A commissioned officer with an uncanny mastery of at least one of the seven Forms of lightsaber combat. A surprise attack by a Separatist force three times their size, with the chain of command in shambles and nobody to trust. There would be no winning this battle. There would be no surviving. She felt her breathing and heart rate quicken as her emotions flared. _No! Stay calm!_ But it was impossible. She was very rapidly losing what little control of the situation she had left.

Vice-Admiral Kien, by contrast, seemed to suddenly relax. He hunched over his battered command console, gripping tightly to its edges as the ship continued to shake. His head was bowed, eyes squeezed shut. His lips moved silently, rapidly.

"We need to get you off this ship," he said suddenly.

"What?" Yuli blinked.

"You. Escape pod. Now." He grabbed her good arm and pulled her toward the door, keying it open before charging through it.

* * *

Kien dragged the girl behind him as he headed for the crew escape pods. Chath stumbled and almost fell at every other step, but managed to keep up somehow. He supposed an arm wound didn't directly impact your ability to run. He didn't really want to have to carry her. Even as they approached the pods, however, the largest explosion yet rocked the ship, throwing him off his feet.

Swearing, he stood up and made to activate his commlink, forgetting that he had discarded it on the bridge. He swore again and dashed to the nearest window, a circular porthole that offered a very limited view of the battle outside. Well, calling it a battle was generous. As he had feared, the clone troopers had been unable to mobilise without a proper chain of command. He'd given the order to go to battle stations, but without the network of communication that the fleet usually relied upon, their response would be lethargic at best. Vulture droids swarmed past the window as the Separatist cruisers bore down on the _Sunrise_.

"We'll never make it in a pod," Chath groaned as she joined him at the window. She looked pale and clutched her wounded arm, but she seemed to have regained her wits somewhat. "Without fighters, those droids will blast us out of the sky in no time."

Kien hated to agree with her. There was no Republic presence in the space around the _Sunrise_ ; something had stopped the fighters from scrambling. "So we need a ship," he grunted. "Come on." Electing not to drag the Jedi this time, Kien set off at a sprint along the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Chath shrieked as she struggled to keep up, pointing to their right. "The hangar is that way!"

"The main hangar?"

"Yes!"

"The one likely crawling with troopers with orders to kill you on sight?"

". . . Yes. What's your plan?"

Kien leapt into a nearby elevator and waited for Chath to follow him in before punching a button. The door whipped shut and the carriage jerked as it began a rapid descent. Sinking to the floor of the elevator, he gulped in deep breaths of air. His lungs burned. He wasn't exactly unfit, but he hadn't been in combat for years. This was all new and quite a shock to the system.

"The plan," he said eventually, as the elevator continued its descent, "is to reach one of the auxiliary hangars and find a ship there."

Chath copied him, sliding to the floor, still clutching her right arm with her good hand. "Will there be anything there?"

"Unlikely, I'd say. Well, I would normally, except we happened to take those pirates into custody last week. I haven't had time to inspect their ship, so it should still be in Hangar C."

The elevator whizzed to a stop and the door slid open. Kien leapt to his feet at the sight of four clone troopers passing by.

"Halt, traitors!" one of them shouted, raising his blaster. That was as far as he got. Wincing inwardly, Kien ignited the Jedi's lightsaber, ramming it into the trooper's neck. It cut through the reinforced armour like butter, and its owner dropped like a stone. The other three panicked and opened fire, but the Force was pulsing through Kien for the first time in nearly a decade. He leapt and spun, slashing two troopers diagonally across their chestplates before finishing the third with a vertical strike.

"Vice-Admiral!" Chath hissed, looking stunned as she followed him out of the elevator. "What in the galaxy are you doing?"

Kien set his mouth grimly as he set off towards the hangar. "I don't like it either, General, but it seems Wire was telling the truth. Every clone trooper on board this ship is now our enemy, and who knows who else? I'd rather strike first than hesitate and lose everything."

"Even so –"

"Even so _nothing_ , General!" Kien snapped. "My cruiser is a war zone, my own men have turned against me, and I am officially a traitor to the Republic. I'm getting off this damned ship, and you can come with me, or you can go down with it!" It was a bluff, of course. He had well and truly thrown his lot in with General Chath now, and he wasn't going to let her die after all that.

She followed him in silence for several seconds. "Yuli," she said eventually.

Kien blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Call me Yuli. I'm . . . I'm no general. Especially not after today." There were tears in her eyes, and she sniffed awkwardly as they ran.

 _Shit! She really is a youngling_. What had the girl said when he picked her and her men up on Geonosis? One tour of duty. He had assumed that she'd been in the system since the Clone War started, as part of the Republic garrison on what had been a key Separatist factory planet, but from the sounds of it, she was barely out of the Jedi Academy. _Just my luck. I stuck my neck out for a greenhorn._ Kien immediately regretted that thought. _You made your choice to get tangled up with the Jedi again._

"All right, then. Yuli," he said, in what he hoped was a vaguely-comforting-but-not-too-familiar-or-condescending tone. "I'm willing to bet that I'm no longer an officer in the Republic Navy either, so from now on it's just Kien. Got it?" He didn't wait for a reply. "Here's our stop."

Kien punched in the security code, granting them access to Auxiliary Hangar C. A massive room compared to the corridors they had just been navigating, the hangar would still be dwarfed by the central staging area where the clones should have been launching their fighters right at that moment. A single ship, sleek and pointed, sat quietly in a corner, guarded by two troopers. When they saw Kien and Yuli approaching, they immediately raised their blasters and fired.

Letting the Force flow through his body, Kien leapt forward, deflecting bolts with his borrowed lightsaber. The Force came a little easier every time he called, as if eager to return to him. _No_ , he realised as he used it to grasp one of the clones' weapon and wrench it from his grasp, sending it spinning across the hangar floor. _It was always with me. It never left._ This felt _right_ , somehow. Like he finally _belonged_ again. Lasers flying, lightsaber in hand, sprinting at inhuman, Force-assisted speeds. It made his heart pound in a way that no space battle or aerial bombardment ever could.

With a swift movement, Kien sheared the second trooper's rifle in two, whipping the lightsaber around to rest at the clone's throat as he reached for his sidearm. Remembering the four troopers he had dispatched ruthlessly just moments earlier, Kien bit his lip and flicked the lightsaber to the side, shutting off the blade. "Get out of here."

"They'll raise the alarm!" Yuli protested as the two disarmed soldiers backed away. "We can't-"

"We'll be long gone before anyone gets here. Come on." Kien thumbed the door release and clambered into the pirate ship. Despite his assurance, he watched the retreating troopers nervously as Yuli followed him on board, then he closed the door and turned around.

The ship was deathly silent, at least compared to outside. The battle still raged all around them, but for a moment, the explosions and tremors faded into the background. The interior of the pirates' ship was surprisingly clean, having been stripped bare of contraband and anything dangerous by a squad of clones. He just hoped they hadn't disabled the engines; if so, they would have to come up with a new plan, and fast.

A cramped hallway led to the cockpit. Kien hurried in and set himself up in the pilot's seat, kicking the ship into action. Lights danced across the control panel, and he scanned the dashboard. Everything still seemed to be working. Right then, the biggest blast yet rocked the Republic cruiser, causing the pirate ship to jerk and rock in its moorings. Kien swore loudly as he was nearly thrown out of the chair, then fumbled with the harness as he continued pre-flight checks. Protocol battled with pragmatism: there was no time to run proper diagnostics, but this would all be for nothing if the ship malfunctioned and left them drifting in space. With both sides of the battle actively gunning for him, he couldn't afford to take any chances.

The cockpit vibrated as the engines thrummed to life, deep and powerful. A detached corner of Kien's mind marvelled at the machine's sheer power and flamboyance. It was as tricked out as a Tatooine podracer, with signs of custom aftermarket and amateur upgrades everywhere he looked. For a brief moment, Kien felt a stab of guilt for the fate of the pirates, who were likely still held in their cells on the lower level. Captured a few days before, they were destined for trial on Coruscant or one of the other Core planets, but now they were as doomed as every other man on this ship. To add insult to injury, he was stealing their pride and joy. Criminals they may have been, but it was clear that these pirates had _loved_ their ship.

Yuli's appearance behind him put paid to that train of thought. "So? Can you get us out of here?" she asked urgently.

Instead of answering, Kien flicked a switch and the engines roared into full lift, taking them off the ground and hovering in the middle of the hangar. Carefully – this ship's steering was a lot more sensitive than the _Sunrise_ – he turned their nose toward the ray shield that separated them from open space. Outside, dozens of vulture droids whizzed past, hammering on the wounded cruiser with laser fire as it languished, unresponsive, in space.

"This isn't going to be pretty," Kien said grimly. "Go find the medical bay and strap yourself in. There's nothing you can do here."

Yuli nodded and withdrew, her lips pursed.

A blinking red light on Kien's right drew his attention. Weapons systems disabled. "Fuck!" he spat. That wasn't going to help. There was no time to fix it, though, he realised as the _Sunrise_ groaned ominously, listing to one side. It was only a matter of time before the reactor became exposed, allowing a chain reaction that would end with his beloved ship becoming nothing more than a fireball in space. It was time to leave.

Gritting his teeth, Kien punched his stolen ship forward, out of the tenuous safety of the hangar and towards the waiting Separatist fleet.


	2. Fleeing The Purge

**Chapter Two  
0350**

Thomas Kien knew immediately that he had made a mistake. The familiar sounds of a space battle surrounded him, but something was very wrong. With no Republic ships active, the Separatists were having a field day tearing the _Sunrise_ to pieces. Only the harsher, deeper _fwap-fwap-fwap_ of droid cannons filled the stage, not counterbalanced by the sharp screeches of ARCs or the heavier blasts from Y-wings. What would normally have been a comforting soundscape instead felt incredibly unsettling.

As he swung his pilfered spacecraft about, the true extent of the damage became obvious. Separatist ships swarmed the _Sunrise_ like carrion flies on a carcass, emboldened by the lack of retaliation. The bridge had collapsed, two of the engines were little more than scrap metal, and the hull was pockmarked by a thousand impact craters. The three Separatist cruisers had drawn near and were in the process of unloading every shred of their considerable firepower onto the _Sunrise_ , turbolasers slamming into the hull and tearing chunks off it. The ship that had been under his command for the past year was being steadily picked apart.

The moment Kien passed the observation post sightline on the main hull, however, a response finally came. Two full wings of ARC-170 starfighters peeled out of the main hangar on top of the cruiser, followed by a number of the slower Y-wings. _Good._ Hopefully they would keep a few of the droids busy. Already, several vulture droids had peeled off from the assault and come after the pirate ship, probably glad to have something to chase. _Shit. Need to get to a safe distance to jump to hyperspace._

Peeling upwards, away from the line of fire, Kien saw with a sinking heart that the clone fighters were ignoring the droids, making a beeline for him. About a third of the Republic force fell to the ongoing Separatist onslaught, but the rest ploughed on determinedly. Their determination to kill the young Jedi on board was staggering, borderline suicidal.

The ARCs found their range, lasers slamming into the rear of Kien's ship. Letting loose a few choice curses that most certainly did not befit an officer of the Republic Navy, Kien diverted everything he could spare to the aft shields, dulling the blows. It would buy them a few seconds at best. Frantically, he punched buttons on the nav computer.

"What will be your destination today?" a chirpy female voice asked.

"Fucking anywhere!" he shouted.

"Acknowledged. Calculating." The ship's AI sounded faintly amused, if that were even possible, but it mercifully did as he asked.

Kien banked the ship wildly as a vulture droid screamed towards him from the starboard side, dead set on suicidally ramming the pirate ship. One of its wicked, pointed wings slammed into the hull with a tooth-rattling shriek, jolting Kien in his chair again, but the impact had been deflected. Kind of. Alarms blared. Scanning the panel, Kien prayed that the hyperdrive remained intact. Thankfully, it seemed to still be functional, but the shield generators had taken critical damage. Immediately, the Republic laser blasts slamming into the rear of his ship changed from a distant annoyance to a real threat.

Cursing, Kien threw the craft into a spin, corkscrewing elegantly and rapidly through space, dodging as much of the incoming fire as he could. Both Republic and Separatist fighters were on his tail now, ignoring each other as they hunted their mutual prey. It was a truly terrifying sight. Feeling the G-forces turning the edges of his vision black, Kien righted the craft and hauled the manual steering column back, executing a terrifyingly sharp overhead one-eighty and flying back towards his pursuers.

He glanced at the hyperdrive indicator. Still calculating.

Shield generators. All but gone.

He rerouted all the power he could to the forward shields as he recklessly charged the incoming Republic fighters, expecting them to break and regroup behind him. The vulture droids would happily turn both him and themselves into flaming debris, so he avoided them for the moment. By habit, he jammed his thumb down on the main gun trigger, forgetting that all of the ship's weapons had been disabled.

The cockpit shuddered under the onslaught of laser blasts, as more and more pierced the shields and started ripping the ship to pieces. More and more lights flashed on the dashboard, klaxons added their wailing to the overall cacophony, and the ARCs –

The ARCs didn't budge. Holding their formation, they rocketed straight towards Kien and his rapidly disintegrating ship. Suddenly, he knew that standard battlefield tactics had been thrown to the winds. These clones no longer cared for self-preservation; they had a mission to carry out, and they would throw themselves – and their ships – at him and the Jedi until they had completed it. Throwing all his weight into the steering, Kien banked once again, soaring between two ARCs with millimetres to spare. Thanking whoever had designed this ship to be as sleek and slippery as it was, he took advantage of the precious few seconds he had won by evading their charge to check the nav computer again.

"Calculations complete," it said smugly. "Preparing to jump to hyperspace."

As the ARCs fell in behind him again, vulture droids still shadowing them, a new alert blared on the display in front of Kien: [MISSILES LOCKED]. A rudimentary radar display depicted six – no, seven, eight, ten? – blinking white dots closing at speed.

The shields wouldn't hold. They were running on prayers as it was, and ARC missiles would tear through what remained like a lightsaber through paper. As the howling of the missiles became audible, the computer took over control of the steering, turning about thirty degrees to port and tilting upwards, past the Separatist fleet.

"Route obstructed," the computer noted, sounding completely unperturbed by their current plight. "Please proceed to an uncrowded area for safe travel."

"Fuck!" Kien grunted. Of course he couldn't jump from here. The Separatist cruisers were surrounded by their hordes of droid fighters, blocking almost his entire view through the wide cockpit window. With missiles rapidly closing, Kien was running out of options. In a split second, he disengaged the autopilot and seized control back, increasing his speed past any reasonably safe level and climbing, climbing away from the battlefield. He was nearly matching the velocity of the missiles, but they crept ever closer as he wrestled with the steering column. Lasers followed the missiles, causing him to jerk forward in his seat as they finally dissipated the pathetic remnants of his shields, each blast feeling like a physical kick in the small of his back. As he felt himself begin to black out again, the computer blipped happily.

"Course recalculated," it said. "Destination: fucking anywhere." The ship's nose finally pointing into empty space, Kien relinquished the controls once more with a gasp, letting himself sink back into the chair as the stars began to melt away behind him at last.

* * *

Yuli breathed a ragged sigh of relief at the familiar sound of a hyperdrive firing up. The ship stopped shaking, the sounds of lasers faded away in an instant and their trajectory became smooth for the first time. Wincing, she finally managed to get the bacta patch open with her left hand and slapped it onto her wounded shoulder. She was no medic, but it didn't seem like there would be any lasting damage. While they hurt like hell, the blaster shots had really only clipped her. Allowing herself to collapse back on the bed, Yuli took a deep breath and glanced around the room. The medical bay was fairly small, but it showed signs of being well stocked – until recently, at least. Kien had had the ship stripped of supplies and weaponry, and that had apparently included ninety percent of the medical equipment. What little remained had been tossed around thanks to Kien's frantic flying. Bacta poultices were scattered on the floor, and a burst bag of syringes rolled across the bed. Carefully avoiding the sharp points, Yuli swept the syringes up and put them back on the shelf before leaving the room to find Kien.

He was still strapped into the pilot's seat, though he appeared to be asleep when Yuli entered the cockpit. Easing herself quietly into the co-pilot's position next to Kien, she inspected the instruments. They didn't tell her much. Yuli had never been much of a pilot, and the unfamiliar aftermarket modifications only served to confuse her further. She managed to identify the navigational computer, which bore a series of unfamiliar coordinates. "Is that...in the Outer Rim?" she murmured aloud.

Kien groaned as he stirred, looking around bleary-eyed. When he noticed Yuli, he smiled weakly. "Morning. Looks like we made it, huh?"

"For now," Yuli said, but immediately regretted it as the smile vanished from her companion's face, replaced by a resigned grimace.

"You're right. We're not out of the woods yet. I've got no idea where we're headed for yet, though it's damn far from anywhere I've ever been. I just hope it's civilised."

Yuli fell silent. Kien's dour mood was contagious. She watched surreptitiously as his hands danced across the controls, checking instruments and silencing beeping alerts. His movements were precise and practised, a consummate Navy officer to the last detail. Right now, though, he looked like hell. He was unwounded, but his uniform was rumpled and scorched, his face flushed and his blonde hair frazzled. He still seemed to be moving half on autopilot, the look in his eyes slightly mad.

Yuli shivered. There was something seriously off about this man. Since she had come aboard his ship he had been the picture of courtesy, a perfect officer and captain. Nothing had seemed amiss. But everything had changed when the clones stormed the bridge. The quiet, mild-mannered Vice-Admiral had become a completely different person. He had saved her life, that much was evident. But she wasn't sure she liked the way he did it. Cautiously, she reached out with the Force, gently probing around the edges of Kien's mind. Finding . . . nothing.

With a sudden intake of breath, he snapped his head around to look at Yuli, causing her to jump and squeak slightly. For a few, terrifying seconds, his eyes – the deep, deep green of an endless forest – were locked onto hers, and she felt his presence expand, rushing out and crashing into her own like waves on a rock.

Yuli gasped and broke eye contact, recoiling into the voluminous co-pilot's chair. This man was dangerous. He was strong with the Force, and he had been trained to use it. Her heart pounded as she watched him return to his instruments.

"You needn't worry," he said at length, still not looking at her. He seemed to have relaxed a little, though. Had he seen something on the ship's dashboard that quelled his misgivings?

"I'm . . . sorry?"

"You're afraid of me. It's natural, I suppose. But I'm saying you don't need to be. Oh, here." He reached down to his belt, unclipped Yuli's lightsaber and held it out to her. "Thank you for letting me borrow this."

She took it wordlessly, force of habit compelling her to check it over for damage or sabotage. Everything was in order, its condition just as she had left it. Still, there was always something unnerving about lending out her lightsaber. It felt a little like having your arm torn off and waved around by somebody else, and she would normally never consider handing it over to anybody except a trusted friend. Something that Kien was definitely not.

"Your form is good," Kien continued. "I didn't get to see anything other than Form V, but you handled that well. Your master was a fan of saber drills?"

Yuli bit her lip. "Yes," she admitted eventually. Master Sinto had made her spend an inordinate amount of time repeating lightsaber kata, solitary exercises with no opponents, distractions or variation. It took some time to adapt to using them on the battlefield. "He . . . sensed that a great conflict was coming, and dedicated more time to training me in the martial arts than the other Masters felt wise."

"But he did not spar with you, or find you a training partner?"

"No." Yuli wasn't sure why she was honestly answering Kien's questions. Something about him still unnerved her greatly, but his was a strangely familiar presence. She frowned. "How could you tell?"

Kien finally turned to look at her. "Your use of Shien was very consistent. Your movements were confident, almost automatic, but you responded poorly to changes in the situation. Normally years of experience are needed to maintain even a basic defence against heavy blaster fire for as long as you did. However, when you took a hit, you lost concentration and couldn't get your guard up again properly. Someone with more practical experience would have reacted better."

Yuli blinked. _That's why his presence is so familiar. He feels like . . . like Master Sinto._ "You . . . you're a Jedi Knight."

Kien's face split into a wry grin. "You got there eventually," he said, leaning back in the pilot's chair and looking rather pleased with himself.

"But . . . but how?" Yuli's mind whirled. "You're an officer! Jedi don't serve in the Navy. Plus, you don't have a lightsaber, and nobody told me . . . Wait, were you undercover?"

Kien laughed then, a hearty sound that surprised her with its intensity and genuineness. "No, nothing that glamorous. In truth, I haven't been a Jedi Knight for some time."

"You were . . . expelled from the Order?" Yuli gasped. "What did you do?"

"How rude!" Kien crossed his arms and stuck his nose up, acting affronted. "I left the Jedi Order on my own terms, of my own volition. I mean, they weren't exactly happy about it . . . It's a long and complicated story. Anyway, the short version is this: I left the Jedi and lived peacefully until the Clone War began, then my conscience got the better of me and I signed on to do my part. Everything went smoothly until today, when my clones tried to damn well kill us."

Yuli closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to wrap her head around the situation. She had more important things to worry about than Kien's past, though she cautiously decided she could trust him. For now. After all, he had practically turned traitor to the Republic in order to save her life. She owed him her gratitude at least. The real question was – why?

"Why?" Kien growled, echoing her own thoughts. "This doesn't make a damn lick of sense. Tell me, Yuli. Did the Jedi really change that much in the eight years I've been gone? Could they have tried to seize power from the Senate?"

"Of course not!" she said vehemently, then paused. "At least, um . . . I don't think so. Something must have happened, though I couldn't say what. In truth, the Jedi Order has changed. We are warriors now, not peacekeepers. We lead armies, we play politics with the Chancellor and his Senators. I have sensed that it becomes ever harder to maintain our identity in the face of such adversity. My Master always warned against losing sight of the tenets that make the Jedi what we are."

"Your Master sounds like a wise man."

"He certainly is . . ." Yuli smiled.

"If a little overfond of saber drills," Kien added drily. "Regardless, you are probably right. There is a great disturbance in the Force, and I fear for the future of the Jedi Order."

"You don't think . . . you don't think _all_ the Jedi are being targeted?" Yuli asked with a shudder. "Oh, that's just too awful to consider."

"Wire said the order came directly from the Chancellor, which means that this is _big_." Kien glanced at the display in front of him. "We're coming out of hyperspace soon. Have you heard of the Malor-77 System?"

"Can't say I have. Is that we're we've wound up?"

"Looks like it. I didn't specify a destination when I set the hyperdrive, so it catapulted us fairly randomly in the direction we were facing, towards the first system it saw."

"Is it inhabited?" Yuli asked anxiously.

"Must be, if it's on the nav charts." Kien punched some more buttons on the console, then read the lines of text that appeared on the monitor. "'Civilisation in the Malor-77 system is centred on the terrestrial planet of Lanteeb, known for its agricultural and mining exports. The central pillar of the Lanteeban economy is damotite ore,' blah blah blah. Oh, here we go. Member of the Republic, but refused to send a representative to the Senate. Curious."

"Honestly, at this point I'd even take a Separatist planet," Yuli admitted, sinking back into the chair and rubbing her eyes. It had been a long day, even before everything had gone wrong.

"Possibly would have been better, actually. The Seppies wouldn't mind killing us, but at least they're not _actively_ hunting you down. If we're gonna land on a Republic planet, we have to be incredibly careful."

With a whoosh, the iridescent blue of the hyperspace lanes faded, coalescing back into a static starscape framing a small, brownish planet.

"Yeuch," said Kien frankly. "Welcome to the asshole of the Republic."

* * *

Kien reclaimed the controls and piloted his beaten-up ship down towards the planet's surface. He'd sent Yuli back to rest in the medical bay with the excuse that she was still wounded. In truth, he didn't know if he could trust her not to attract the wrong kind of attention on the planet's surface. He had stopped reading the file on Lanteeb aloud, but he continued scanning it as they approached, and it did not look good. Not a lot was known about Lanteeb, as they had refused to take part in galactic politics even though they were technically under Republic protection. The most worrying note, however, was that Lanteeb was a hundred percent human-occupied. Xenophobic and anti-alien, the Lanteebans strongly mistrusted extraspecies, no matter how humanoid they may be. With her light cobalt skin and silvery-purple hair, Yuli Chath would stick out like a sore thumb.

The data file had directed him to a settlement near the equator, the closest thing Lanteeb had to an offworld trading post. Nobody greeted Kien on any of the open frequencies as he approached the city, so he set down a couple of klicks away, then set about executing a full diagnostic of the various systems. While the ship's computer scanned everything it could reach, he stepped outside to inspect the hull.

Lanteeb was a boring planet. That was the only thing he could think of as he exited the stolen pirate ship and scanned his surroundings. Dry, brown earth, pockmarked with dry, stunted trees and tough-looking grasses. He'd landed on a wide open plain, though there were some small hills between them and the settlement he'd spotted from the air. Kien allowed himself to feel cautiously optimistic. A Republic planet would take Republic credits, surely?

Turning away from the dreary landscape, Kien whistled as he saw the extent of the damage to his hull. The ship – which was apparently named the _Harmless Mischief_ – had been battered almost beyond recognition, scorched with dozens of laser blasts. Some of the instruments underneath the hull had been blown clean off by the vulture droid that had scraped a huge chunk out of the _Mischief_ 's underbelly. Satisfied that a little body work would take care of most of the external damage, Kien headed back inside the ship to see if the diagnostic cycle had finished.

As it turned out, it would have been quicker to list the instruments that _weren't_ broken. Blessedly, the communications array, located above the cockpit, had been spared from the destruction. Pretty much everything else that could be blown up, had been. The collision with the vulture droid had wiped out the aft shield generator, and the backup wasn't in good shape either. The hyperdrive was holding together, but wouldn't last another trip. The sublight engines likewise needed significant attention.

Kien sighed and returned to the medical bay, where Yuli was sitting on the bunk, anxiously disassembling and reassembling her lightsaber. She looked up hopefully when he came in. "Is it really . . . that bad?"

"Let's just say I'm damn surprised we're still in one piece. I'm going into town to try and find a mechanic who can at least repair our engines and shields, and maybe get the weapons systems unlocked. Once we can fly and shoot without exploding, we can figure out our next move. Good?"

"Alright," she agreed. "You sure you don't want me to come?"

"No, stay here and rest. I can handle this. I'll need you to watch over the ship, anyway. It might be a piece of shit, but it's all we've got at the moment. Stay hidden if you can, though. I don't quite know what to expect from this planet yet."

Lanteeb's main settlement, creatively named Lanteeb, was less rough than Kien had anticipated. The locals, while not exactly friendly, were more than willing to do business with a human. Before long, he had located a somewhat trustworthy mechanic who would repair the _Mischief_ 's crucial systems for a reasonable price. Kien suspected that his bank account would have been frozen already – and if it hadn't been, accessing it would lead the Republic right to them, jeopardising their entire escape – so he paid for everything with cash.

Before returning to the ship, Kien stopped by a local bar to try and dig any information he could out of off-duty miners and farmers. They were a tough lot, and not particularly chatty, but he soon realised there was nothing to be learned from them anyway. He'd been hoping to hear rumours about the fate of the Jedi, but it was far too soon for news to have made it out to such a remote system. Nevertheless, the clock was ticking. Before too long, he anticipated, there would be a galaxy-wide manhunt on for surviving Jedi, however may there may be. Some would have been taken surprise by the treachery of their clone troopers, but that wouldn't be enough to seal the fate of the Jedi Order.

Surely.

Feeling a creeping sense of dread, Kien hurried back to where he had left Yuli and the _Mischief_.

* * *

"You need to see this," were the first words out of Yuli's mouth when Kien returned, finding her not in the medical bay, but the cockpit. Blinking back tears, she brought up a recording on the ship's computer. A fuzzy blue hologram appeared, hovering over the dashboard.

Kien gasped, uncharacteristically emotional. "Is that-?"

 _"This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi,"_ the hologram said, the sound crackly and indistinct. _"I regret to … both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising … place. This message is a warning …minder for any surviving Jedi: trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple. That time has passed … is uncertain. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere. And, in time, a new hope will emerge. May the Force be with you. Always."_

The hologram was imperfect and incomplete. "No matter how I tried to boost it, we're too far out for a proper signal. This was the best I could get," she confessed in a small voice. She turned to Kien, desperate. "What can we do?"

The older man's mouth was a grim line. "This has terrifying implications. If Master Kenobi is correct . . . the balance is lost."

"You can feel it, can't you?" she prompted. "The Force is in turmoil."

Kien frowned and closed his eyes. "…Yes," he said at length. "It does not come as easily to me as it used to, but it is there. The Force laments. The balance is broken."

"We can't-"

"Hold on." Kien cut her off, cracking one eye open. "Where did you get this recording?" His voice was suddenly sharp again, the sadness pushed aside momentarily.

"It was broadcasting on a secret Jedi frequency. I know what you're trying to say, but nobody could have detected it unless they knew exactly what to look for."

"And if you were Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, you would."

"What? But, um, how? How could he know?"

"Open your eyes, young one," Kien said, shutting off the recording, which had looped and started speaking again in the background. "The Jedi would not fall for such trickery unless the dark side was involved."

"What, you think the Chancellor is a _Sith Lord_?"

"Maybe not. That would be absurd. But the Sith are involved somehow, without a doubt. Palpatine may be only a puppet. In any case, we can trust nobody. The dark side's strength lies in treachery, falsehoods and deceit. It's entirely possible that Kenobi's transmission was being monitored."

Yuli felt herself flush deep indigo as the implications dawned on her. "Meaning . . ."

"Meaning we've overstayed our welcome here already." Kien threw himself into the pilot's chair and powered up the engines, lifting off and speeding towards the town. "I've found a guy who'll repair the ship. Remember, you're a wanted woman. Stay out of sight in the medical bay while the repairs are being done, then we're leaving."

A few moments later, they touched down at a battered, rudimentary shipyard on the outskirts of town. Kien hustled her out of the cockpit before leaving the ship. "I'm going to pick up some supplies. This bucket is pretty low on, well, everything. Food in particular."

Yuli sulked, but did as she was told. Kien was a bit pushy sometimes, but she had to admit that he seemed to know what he was doing. He was still young, perhaps in his early thirties, but he carried an air of command that she supposed had helped him rise to Vice-Admiral so quickly. She would have to ask him about that someday. Someday when they weren't on the run from the whole Republic – or perhaps, the 'Empire'. What had Master Kenobi been talking about? The lack of information was infuriating, but at least she now knew that Coruscant was no longer safe. Returning to the Jedi Temple had been her first instinct, but if what Kenobi said was true, that would only get her killed.

So where could she go now? Yuli suddenly became painfully aware of how very little she knew about the galaxy outside of the Jedi Temple. Moons, it had been less than a year since she achieved the rank of Jedi Knight, and now there _were_ no Jedi any longer. Was she supposed to spend the rest of her life in exile, doomed to run and hide until she was finally hunted down and executed? Would the forces arrayed against her ever give up?

Shivering, Yuli drew the threadbare blanket around her, simultaneously reaching out to the living Force for comfort. There was none to be found, however. Whenever she tapped into it, she only felt pain. Her own pain, magnified a thousand times over. The pain of the lost, the pain of betrayal, the pain of a knife driven into her back and twisted. The dark side of the Force, in this moment of chaos, reigned supreme.

Letting herself fall sideways onto her good arm, Yuli curled her legs up to her chest, buried her face in the blanket and wept.


	3. Deathtrance

_Author Notes: I've been informed that personal blasters do not, in fact, fire lasers - a little research tells me they are particle beam weapons, which is apparently something completely different. I apologise for the error, but I've always been more interested in the wondrous scope and depth of the Star Wars universe and its mythology than its fiddly science bits. From now on, though, I'll make sure to use correct terminology wherever I can. :)  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Three  
0835  
Lanteeb City, Lanteeb**

Kien returned to the _Mischief_ to find repairs almost complete. The mechanic, a sturdy, glowering man named Gaft, stomped over as Kien guided the hovercrate of provisions and medicine towards the door.

"Hyperdrive and sublight are both fine. Just needed some basic repairs," Gaft reported.

"What about the shield generators?" Kien asked worriedly.

"Buggered. Needed to replace them completely. Got some compatible ones on hand, luckily. Won't be pretty, though."

Kien waved a hand dismissively. "I don't care what it looks like."

Gaft grunted in a peculiar way that might have indicated laughter. "I can tell. You've strapped so much aftermarket shit to her I could barely recognise the chassis."

"Actually, I, ah . . . acquired her recently in a business deal," Kien lied. "What can you tell me about the specs?"

"Base craft was a Takshi Elite X-42. Once. They've got distinctive wings, but your business associate trimmed them so you can't tell unless you know what to look for. Hyperdrive is a rickety bucket of bolts that somehow manages to tip Class 1.2. Never seen anything so stupid."

"As long as it gets us offworld, I'm happy. Will it do that?"

"Yeah. You in some kinda hurry?"

Kien narrowed his eyes. "You could say that."

"Nothing to do with the laser bombardment you took up the arse, is it?" Gaft jerked his head towards the ship's pockmarked rear. "Wonder who would want to blow you outta the sky that badly."

"I'm paying for your discretion as well as your services, Gaft," Kien reminded him coldly. "How soon can you be done?"

Gaft rolled his eyes and grunted. He did that a lot. "Easy there, kid. I'm just yanking your chain, I really don't care. It'll be done in an hour, tops. Pack up and you can be halfway to Ventooine before anybody knows you were here."

Kien grinned despite himself, relaxing slightly, though he remained cautious. "Thanks."

After stowing away the food and other supplies, Kien spent twenty minutes wandering around the ship's interior, familiarising himself with the layout. It really was a Takshi Elite, he realised, but it had been stripped down to its chassis and refitted with more freight and engine space, replacing some of the original cabins. There was room for eight people to sleep onboard in four bunk pods, but the comforts of life were sparse. The galley was basically non-existent, and the only living space was a sort of communal area amidships. Fitted out with benches and a table, the room was outfitted in sharp white like the rest of the ship. Digital monitors were set into two of the walls, and upon closer inspection, the table was fitted with hologram technology. As a pirate ship, this had probably been a planning room.

Kien felt another wave of guilt as he thought of the ship's original owners. While necessity justified commandeering the ship as far as he was concerned, it didn't stop him feeling a little bad for leaving them to die on the _Sunrise_. The clones onboard, and the rest of his officers...they had been there by choice. As military men, they knew the risks and accepted the possibility that they might not make it home – which was good, because they certainly would not now. Kien and Yuli had fled the battle before the result was finalised, but the situation had been unsalvageable. Under normal circumstances, being blindsided like that would have been cause enough for a full retreat. The _Sunrise_ never would have been able to jump to hyperspace with that many Separatists around, so it would have been the escape pods for the men – and the pirates, he supposed. And Kien himself...

 _The captain goes down with his ship._ Well, he'd screwed that up right royally. Just another sin to add to the laundry list of crimes which he would surely be charged with if the Republic ever got their hands on him. Dereliction of duty, interfering with the execution of an order from the Chancellor himself, deliberate obstruction of justice – if you could even call that 'justice' – and abandoning his command during a battle. If the clones had reported him and Yuli missing before the _Sunrise_ was inevitably destroyed, there would be a target painted on his back anywhere he went.

Like it or not, Thomas Kien was now a fugitive from the Republic he had served all his life.

And what was he supposed to do with the girl? Kien paused in the corridor outside the closed door of the medical bay, where Yuli had mercifully gone to sleep at last. He himself would now be branded a traitor to the Republic, but he had a sinking feeling that Yuli's judgement would be far harsher. The Sith were moving, and there was no doubt in his mind that they would not rest until the Jedi were exterminated.

Yuli's master Sinto was not the only one who had foreseen a great conflict. His own teacher had always been intrigued by rumours of the Sith and their eventual return, which he saw as inevitable. Old Master Coreth was no fool, but his worries had long been dismissed as paranoia and conjecture. The Sith were dead and gone, they all said. Coreth was getting on in years, they whispered. The mysterious warrior who had slain Master Qui-Gon Jinn on Naboo a decade ago had vindicated him somewhat, but the Jedi had still refused to take the threat seriously. Kien felt his hands clench involuntarily into fists as he remembered how nobody had been willing to take his master seriously. It was one of the reasons he had left the Jedi Order, hadn't it? Had he not made a promise to seek out the servants of the dark side? What had happened to that? Instead, he had enlisted in the Republic Navy and allowed himself to become nothing more than another cog in the war machine.

 _The war . . . How much of it was even real?_ he wondered. How far back did this plot go? Had the Sith seen an opportunity to seize control and destroy the Jedi, or had they orchestrated it all from the beginning?

Speculating was useless, he decided, striding back towards the cockpit. He would investigate in time, and find out the truth behind everything. He owed his Master that. For now, he couldn't prevent himself from wondering how many Jedi had fallen. Those he had called friends; his Master and other teachers; Jocasta Nu in the archives; the other younglings he had trained with at the Academy. Master Kenobi was the only one he knew for sure to have survived, and despite his frustration at being put in danger, he was glad Yuli had found the transmission. _Do not return to the Temple_. What had happened on Coruscant? What horrors had been committed?

Kien returned to his pilot's seat, but didn't touch the instrument panel, which now blipped contentedly as the systems were corrected one by one. Instead, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply, falling into a trancelike meditation. As if lowering himself into a swiftly flowing river, he allowed himself to sink into the Force, letting it envelop him and permeate his mind and soul. It was a wonderfully nostalgic feeling. It had been more than three years since he had joined the Navy and deliberately cut himself off from the Force, fearing discovery and repercussions. Feeling it wash over him now, he knew he had been mistaken. He sank deeper, letting the Force flow through him in a way that was both calming and profoundly terrifying. The Jedi Order cautioned against delving too deep into the universal mystery that was the Force; cautionary tales of foolish Jedi lost to madness played around the corners of his mind as he forced his heartbeat and breathing to slow even further, becoming almost comatose. The physical world faded away. No light or sound reached Kien as he opened his mind's eye and saw the Force.

'Seeing' was the wrong word, but no language Kien had ever heard possessed sufficient words to describe what he was experiencing. The flow of the Force permeated the entire galaxy, and with a little practice, Kien did too. His limited human mind turned the patterns and threads into visible artefacts, the only way he could comprehend the Force without succumbing to it entirely. The masters had always talked about deceased Jedi 'becoming one with the Force', and his personal theory was that this particular technique was a way to approximate that experience – without actually dying, thankfully. The Force was dark today, as he anticipated. Instead of the usual enormous, soothing presence he was used to, undertones of ominous pressure flowed through him as soon as he opened himself to it, almost hurling him out of the trance. With no small effort, he gathered himself – feeling the pull of the living Force threatening to disintegrate him in the ether – and allowed the currents to pull him along. This was the Deathtrance.

There was no near or far in this dimension. Coruscant, the Jedi Temple, the Outer Rim – these were all constructs, limited by the restrictions of a physical galaxy. The Force was bound by no such laws, and as such Kien was instantly aware of the great disturbance at the centre of his own being. Normally, he was able to somewhat orient himself by the large, glowing nucleus that represented the Jedi Temple, the largest concentration of Force users in the galaxy. Today, however, that space was occupied by the opposite of light: a writhing, terrifying mass of blackness, stifling and smothering the last few pinpricks of what had passed for balance. No sooner had Kien noticed it than it slammed into him too, seeking to consume and destroy. It filled his vision, screamed in his ears, wrapped around his throat and choked the life out of him. Somewhere in the corner of his mind that remained tied to the physical world, he knew that he had no physical body in the Deathtrance, but it didn't stop him from fighting it. His vision went black, his limbs would not move. He didn't need to breathe, but his lungs were burning. Kien screamed. Was that his real body responding, or the Force? He didn't know. The two merged and split, crossing over dangerously and loosening his tenuous link to reality.

"Kien!" A shriek. The shadows retreated momentarily, giving him room to breathe.

"Again . . ." he groaned, grasping the voice and drawing himself towards it. Out of the river. Out of the quicksand. Tendrils of darkness grasped at his body, trying to hold him down. He knew that if he let this Force have its way, he would never return to how he was. Perhaps it was already too late.

"Kien! Kien, come back to me!" The voice was Yuli's. Fear. She was scared. Scared of him, or scared for him? Anger, too. The violent emotions crashed against Kien's super-heightened senses, threatening to overwhelm him. No. _No!_ This was something he could handle. The fear, the anger and despair of a single girl. He reached out with the Force and grasped at Yuli, using her as a ladder to climb out of the deathly trap he had found himself in. She kept talking, nearly incoherent through her sobs. What had she felt? Did she see what he saw? Impossible.

With one final heave, Kien pulled himself out of the Deathtrance and returned to the _Harmless Mischief_ 's cockpit. Suddenly everything was agony; his arms and legs seized, and a bolt of pain shot through his head. He cried out, but there was no breath in his lungs, leaving him choking for air. He tasted blood. His heartbeat throbbed in his ears as he rolled over – was he on the ground now? Everything was blurry and dark – slamming a fist against the console.

"Kien! Moons, Kien, what happened? Oh, this is terrible!" Yuli fretted somewhere above him, tears cutting her voice short. She looked like she wanted to help, but didn't know where to start.

"It's . . . it's fine," he groaned at length, letting his head fall back against the cool metal floor. He could see the bottom of the dashboard, his chair, and in between the two: Yuli's face, peering anxiously down at him as he lay flat on his back. He had no desire to get up quite yet, though.

"What . . . where did you go?" she asked, worry still clearly etched in every line of her cobalt face.

"I was meditating." It wasn't a lie. He had been – after a fashion.

"On the floor? Moons, Kien, you weren't moving! I sensed something wrong in the Force, and then moments later you _screamed_. Goodness, I've never heard anything so horrible. It was just awful! I ran down here straight away and found you like this. You wouldn't budge, you weren't even breathing!"

Kien winced, realising just how deep he had let himself fall. Thankfully, the pain was beginning to abate already. Carefully, he dragged himself out from under the dash and into a sitting position. "If I tell you what I was doing, will you _promise_ not to tell Master Yoda?"

Yuli frowned, still looking like she wanted to tend to him, but eventually settled for kneeling down in front of him, putting her jet-black eyes on a level with his. "Master Yoda? Why?" There wasn't much room on the floor of the cockpit, and she was uncomfortably close.

Kien tried not to think about it. "He never . . . approved of this line of study. And believe me, I know why. But sometimes, risk is necessary."

"Study? What study?" Her eyes wide, Yuli reminded Kien forcefully of the younglings at the Academy. He had long looked forward to taking a Padawan of his own, but circumstances had gotten in the way.

Kien took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head was still throbbing, but it was becoming bearable. "At the Jedi Temple, I used to do research on the Sith and their ways. Some of their forbidden techniques fascinated me. Of course, the Jedi Archives didn't hold any specific instructions – at least, not that I was allowed to see. When I left the Jedi Order, one of the things I did was visit ancient Sith temples in all corners of the galaxy. Free of the suffocating restraint of the Jedi, I sought secrets they were afraid to know."

Yuli listened, slack-jawed in . . . admiration? Horror? Kien couldn't quite tell. He paused, giving her an opportunity to ask the obvious question. "Did you . . . _turn_?" she asked, frowning.

Kien chuckled. _What a refreshingly simplistic way of thinking._ "No. No, I never succumbed to the dark side. All my research was done with the intent of understanding the Sith, unlocking their secrets so that if they ever returned, we would be able to defeat them once again."

"So what does that have to do with winding up screaming on the floor?"

"One of the ancient Sith techniques is something called the Deathtrance. It's similar in concept to typical Jedi meditation, where you still your physical body to become more attuned to the Force. The difference is one of scale. Where the Jedi tend to understand the danger of giving themselves over to the Force-"

"I never understood that," Yuli cut in. "How the Force is supposedly dangerous. I know the risks of the dark side, but shouldn't we as Jedi be able to avoid those?"

"It's not about light and dark. The Force is enormous, so massive that we can't even comprehend its scale. The further we delve into its secrets, the more we risk losing ourselves entirely."

Yuli was silent a moment. "So then, the Deathtrance . . ."

"Allows the user to attune themselves to the Force far beyond the capabilities of a normal Jedi," Kien finished. "The Sith never knew restraint. It has been one of their greatest weaknesses since time immemorial. They always sought more. More power, more knowledge. To achieve their goals, they thought nothing of starting wars that embroiled the galaxy in a maelstrom of death. Many Sith Lords met their ends in the Deathtrance, and many more were driven mad by what they saw in it."

"And that's what you were doing."

"Yep." Kien dragged himself upright, wobbling slightly. Yuli sprang to her feet and took his arm, concern still written all over her face.

"You're telling me that you _could have died_ in here just now?"

"Er . . . yes. That's distinctly possible. In fact, I likely would have if you hadn't intervened. Thanks for that, by the way."

"And you didn't tell me?" she exclaimed. "Moons, Kien! What good would it do to kill yourself after escaping like that? Tell me next time you're going to do something stupid, would you?"

"I –" _I feel a right fool_ , Kien realised. "Sorry."

"Come on, Captain," she said, helping him into the pilot's chair. "It's about time we got off this rock."

"The mechanic-"

"- is done," Yuli finished. "He came looking for you, but for some reason, he left when he saw me . . ."

Kien winced. "Yeah. Uh, sorry about that. The Lanteebans don't like offworlders."

"Hmph! He was perfectly happy to do business with _you_ ," Yuli pointed out.

"Yeah, well . . . I guess I'm technically an offworlder, but I'm not, you know . . ." He trailed off helplessly.

"Not what? _Blue_?"

"Er, yes. Sorry." Kien glanced at her uncomfortably. "Stars, Yuli! Are you _laughing_?"

For perhaps the first time since he had met her, the young Pantoran was holding back a smile of genuine mirth. "I'm well aware of the colour of my skin, Captain Kien. I was born this way, you see, and no matter how hard I try, it doesn't wash off. If you think I'm going to be bothered by some xenophobic, backwater bumpkins –"

"All right, all right!" Kien laughed. "I get it! Wait – 'Captain' Kien? When did I get promoted? Or is it demoted?"

Yuli's grin disappeared, replaced by a look of resolved determination. It befitted her noble features, Kien thought idly. "As it happens, I find myself with nothing but a lightsaber and a handful of credits to my name. If you would be so kind, _Captain_ Kien, I would avail myself of your services."

Kien raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what services would those be?"

"Well, you have a ship, for starters. I was rather hoping I could stay with you for a while – at least until we can work out what's happened and what to do next."

Kien pretended to think it over. In truth, he had decided some time ago to stick with the young Jedi for a while. It wasn't exactly practical – if the Jedi were being hunted as fiercely as he suspected, she would draw undue attention – but he had to admit he was fond of her. She was young and naïve, but promising. Something about her brought out his protective instinct. Perhaps it was the way she reminded him of the Padawan he had never had, or the daughter –

 _Shit. Aoife._

"Okay," he said. "Welcome aboard. But if you're going to be part of my crew, you defer to me. And for the first order of business . . . we're going to the Takshi system."

"Yes, Master," she replied. "Er, I mean, Captain!"

Kicking the engines into action, Kien smiled wryly. "I never achieved the rank of Master, Yuli," he corrected her gently.

"I'm sorry!" Yuli's cheeks flushed indigo as she bowed her head in apology. "But, uh, can I ask one thing? Why Takshi? It's a Republic system, and there's sure to be a garrison there."

"I have . . . friends there," he said slowly, lifting the _Mischief_ off the ground and turning the nose spacebound. He flicked the activation switch on the navigation computer. "Prepare to jump to hyperspace. Destination: Takshi Prime. Avoid routes with heavy Republic traffic."

"Calculating. Please proceed beyond the gravity well," the computer chirped.

They soared upwards for a few minutes, until Lanteeb's gravity relinquished its grip on the battered ship, allowing the hyperdrive to kick in and send them rocketing towards the Takshi system.


	4. Like Family

_Author Notes: Alright, I went a bit nuts posting chapters for the first week, but now I'm gonna put it on a schedule: two chapters a week, Monday and Friday (NZ time, which means Sunday and Thursday NA). Also, this chapter almost went to press with 'Lanteeb' autocorrected to 'Lantern' in multiple places. How terribly embarrassing that would have been. That's what I get for writing large chunks of this story on my phone.  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Four  
1650 (Takshi local time)  
Hyperspace**

* * *

Yuli excused herself to return to the medical bay, hoping to take advantage of some of the new supplies Kien had brought on board – and to hide the fact that she was still blushing furiously. _I called him 'Master'! Moons, how embarrassing._ It had just slipped out before she could do anything about it. The gaffe was probably down to how much he reminded her of Master Sinto. When he had started lecturing on the forbidden Sith techniques before, she had found herself getting drawn in, morbidly curious and wanting to know more. The man was a teacher through and through, though he didn't seem to realise it quite yet.

Chewing absently on a protein bar, Yuli clumsily administered painkillers with her left hand, gasping in relief as the pain in her wounded arm – which she had been pointedly ignoring until now – faded away almost instantly. She knew full well the damage would still take some time to heal, but it was a wonderful respite nonetheless.

Now that the pain was gone, she felt her adrenaline beginning to seep away. She had been running on fumes for the last few hours, and her eyelids started to droop as she cleared some space on the bunk. Within seconds of lying down, she was asleep.

 _Yuli had thought she would dream of the other Jedi. The Temple, perhaps. There were many stories among the Jedi of meaningful visions coming in the form of dreams, particularly in times of trial. Part of her hoped to see the fate of her comrades, although she couldn't help but be afraid of what she might see._

 _As it turned out, she needn't have worried. She dreamed of better days, her years learning from Master Sinto. Fourteen. The start of her apprenticeship. Apprehension. Excitement. Sixteen. The first time she accompanied Sinto on a field assignment. Eagerness. Worry. Nineteen. The outbreak of the Clone War. Confusion. Her world, upside-down. Twenty-one. The Jedi Trials. So proud. Strong. Afraid. Was she ready?_

 _She didn't have a choice._

When she awoke, the hum of the hyperdrive had quieted. In fact, there was no engine noise at all. She changed her dressings, then ventured out of the medical bay to find Kien. He was still in the cockpit, as she expected, dozing fitfully as they drifted through space. Out of the viewport, she saw a lush green planet wreathed in silvery clouds, dotted with sparkling cities. Takshi Prime. It was truly beautiful. She had never visited the system, but she could see why it was a prime tourist destination among the Coruscanti elite.

Quietly, she took a seat in the co-pilot's chair and let herself relax, watching the planet below slowly revolving through space. Just as she was considering waking her companion, a shrill ringing noise pierced the cockpit, alerting the occupants to an incoming transmission.

* * *

Kien came awake with a jolt, blinking blearily as he searched for the transmission button. Yuli had woken up and joined him in the cockpit at some point, though she remained silent as he found the right button and answered the hailing.

"Thomas, you son of a bitch. You've got some nerve coming here," snapped a woman's voice.

Kien groaned inwardly. The worst possible person had picked up his coded broadcast. "Mar, this isn't the time for this. I have to get planetside. Quietly. It's an emergency."

"I'm sure it is." Mar's voice was icy. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't let you take your chances with the authorities."

"For Yishan." Kien squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. The connection was silent for several seconds, yet somehow Mar's fury was perfectly clear. He pictured her in his mind's eye, flame-red hair in disarray as her face twisted in fury. She was probably gripping her commlink hard enough to cause structural damage.

"For Yishan," she repeated, her voice dangerously level. "Are you fucking serious?"

" _Yes_ ," Kien said emphatically. "I know how you feel about me, Mar, but –"

"You realise this makes us even, right?" She cut him off aggressively. "No more favours."

"I know. This is the first, last and only time I will ask you to stick your neck out for me, and I wouldn't do it if I had the tiniest shadow of a choice! I'll explain everything when I see you in person, but right now I don't have the time."

The line fell silent again for several seconds. "Fine," she spat eventually. "You're cleared to land."

"Thank you," Kien said, breathing a quiet sigh of relief.

"And I can do without your fucking explanation. I never want to see your face again."

"Mar –" The connection went dead. "Dammit." He slumped back in his chair, suddenly even more exhausted than he had been five minutes ago.

"Was that one of your 'friends'?" Yuli asked.

"Oh yeah," Kien replied with a straight face. "Me and Mar, we go way back. My favourite part was probably that time I killed her sister."

"You _what._ "

"Believe me, it's a particularly long and painful tale. I don't have the time now, but I'll tell you one day." Kien fired up the engines and began his approach, heading for the capital city of Metra.

"I won't let you forget. It sounds like a good story."

"It probably is. I've never told it to anybody in full, though, so you'll forgive me if I take a while to warm up to the idea."

* * *

They landed without incident, bypassing checkpoints and port authorities unchallenged. Kien held his breath as the _Mischief_ touched down, but the two local guards manning their landing pad seemed unfazed. Mar might have hated his guts, but she'd kept her promise. He made a note to try and make proper amends with her someday. Not today, though. The wound Yishan's death had left in her heart was clearly still fresh.

"All right," he said. "We're going to need to go on foot to my safe house. Cover up, Blue. This is no Lanteeb, but you still stick out."

Harrumphing, Yuli wrapped herself up in a hooded robe, black with golden trim. For his part, Kien ditched his Republic blazer – which he probably should have done on Lanteeb – and donned a floppy grey hat that hung over his eyes. He was less worried about being identified, but it didn't pay to be complacent.

Leaving the ship, Kien swiftly led Yuli through the spaceport, scanning the vaulted corridors before progressing. The local guards paid little attention to them, but Kien was more concerned about the Republic garrison. Since Takshi had relinquished its neutrality, there would be a military presence on the planet, particularly here in the capital. The streets would no longer be safe.

There was an audible intake of breath behind Kien as they emerged from the spaceport's winding passages and entered the capital proper. He glanced at Yuli and found himself smiling. "It's quite something, huh?"

It was easy to forget how stunning Takshi could be. Metra had become like a second home to him during his years as a Jedi Knight, and after enough time, its wonders became commonplace. For a first-time visitor like Yuli, however, the jewel in the crown was on full display. Despite being a full member of the Galactic Republic and a leader in technological innovation, Takshi's historic capital retained its ancient charm. The wide streets were lined with clay and red-brick facades, cunningly supported by hidden frameworks of more modern materials. The architecture was soaring and curved, with fine waves and fluted corners woven together into a chaotically beautiful mess. Sharp edges were shunned, and walls and floors inlaid with colourful mosaics were common sights. Takshi had always been a well-forested world, and remnants of that legacy were evident in the form of verdant trees spaced artfully along the roads. In the distance, a large, pointed spire in the same rusty red as the rest of the city stretched up towards the heavens – the seat of the local and planetary governments, a building Kien was all too familiar with. The summer sun shone fiercely in the sky, casting dappled shadows across the busy boulevard. Locals, tourists and all manner of offworlders strolled beneath the trees, lethargically enjoying a slow, cosmopolitan day. A slight pang of jealousy brought Kien back to reality, making him think fondly of the days he had spent here with Yishan. Now was not the time for nostalgia.

"C'mon, Blue. Be mindful of your surroundings, but don't get distracted. Did your Master teach you nothing?" he teased, tapping Yuli's elbow to remind her they had places to be.

She pouted, but there was no snippy comeback for once. Perhaps he'd struck a nerve. Taking one final glance up and down the street to confirm there were no clone troopers around, he led Yuli across the carriageway and down a side street. He moved slowly now, blending in with the crowds of locals with his relaxed pace. He stayed alert, though. There were clones dotted through the streets, as he had expected. Logically, he knew there was almost no chance of either himself or Yuli being recognised, but he doubled back, crossed streets and took detours to avoid them nonetheless. _Take no chances._

* * *

Yuli followed Kien closely, trying her best not to look out of place. It was difficult to say the least. She was thankful for the anonymity of her robe, but it was heavy, difficult to move in, and sweltering hot. She felt that she probably drew more suspicion because of it than she ever would otherwise. The locals were dressed lightly, in colourful, flowing silks and simple white cottons. She sensed them glancing curiously at her, but their gazes never lingered. A populous planet like this, near the Corellian Run, would be well accustomed to all kinds of eccentric offworlders. Still, she couldn't help but feel nervous at their sedate pace, which gave her plenty of time to glance around surreptitiously, seeing clone troopers around every corner. Once, those faceless white helmets had represented order, justice and the comforting sameness of the Grand Army of the Republic. Since the attack on the bridge of the _Sunrise_ , however, the once-reassuring visage had been haunting the dark corners of her mind.

As they moved further from the spaceport, the city became quieter, though it still hummed with life. Streets sloped gently downwards; the city was situated atop the crown of a shallow hill, with the spaceport near the top. Yuli tried to stay calm, remembering both Sinto's teachings and Kien's admonishment.

Within a few minutes, Kien stopped in front of a red clay house, much the same as all the others that lined the streets. He raised a hand as if to knock, but paused to look thoughtfully at her, tapping a finger on his chin.

"Is something wrong?" she prompted.

"Nothing like that," he said, waving a hand. "I just want you to know what to expect. These people are like family to me, and I trust them with my life. I intend to tell them the truth about our situation."

Yuli nodded. "If you trust them, Kien, that's good enough for me." Even as she said it, she was surprised to find that it was true. Despite the profound darkness she had sensed in him on Lanteeb, despite his enigmatic and suspicious history as an ex-Jedi who hid his skills to join the Republic war effort . . . she couldn't help but trust him. He had saved her life many times over during the fall of the _Sunrise_ , after all, and something about the strange man drew her to him.

"I'm glad," Kien said with a smile. "These people are loyal to the Republic, but our loyalty to each other outweighs that."

"Kien, you . . . You said they were 'like' family. Don't tell me that they're really your . . .?"

"No. No, they're more like my adopted family. After I left the Jedi Order, I . . . Hey, stop trying to make me tell you stories," he rebuked her gently. "There'll be plenty of chances once we're safe." Kien raised his hand again and pounded firmly on the door.

It swung open a few seconds later, revealing a dark-haired middle-aged woman. When she saw Kien, her eyes grew wide.

"Stars, Thomas! I didn't expect to see you for another six months. Come in, come in. You too, dearie. Make yourselves at home." She pulled Kien into a motherly embrace as she practically dragged him inside.

Yuli followed timidly. The interior of the house was cool and dim, narrow shafts of sunlight slicing down from high windows. She found herself in a clay-floored living room; rather than the mosaics that had been ubiquitous in the city, a large, brightly coloured mat adorned the floor. Two girls were playing near a table and chairs to one side, one maybe ten years old and the other much younger. They looked up as Kien and Yuli entered, and the older one waved cheerfully. Yuli returned the gesture with a smile.

"I know I said I'd visit after my deployment ended, Resa," Kien was saying, "but circumstances have changed."

A look of worry flitted across the older woman's face, but was quickly replaced by a smile once more as she beckoned the two girls over. "You can tell me all about it later. Zelna! Aoife! Come say hello to your Uncle Thomas."

The girls trotted over obediently, and Kien stopped to greet them, smiling fondly. "My, how you two have grown!"

Resa turned her attention to Yuli. "Let me take that heavy old cloak off you, dear," she clucked, unclasping the robe and hanging it on a peg behind the door. "My, aren't you a pretty one! Where are you from, dearie?"

Suddenly realising her rudeness, Yuli executed a quick bow. "I am Yuli Chath, from Pantora. It is a great pleasure to meet the one Captain Kien trusts so deeply." Noticing Resa's gaze lingering on the lightsaber that was now visible strapped to her hip, she volunteered the obvious information. "I am also a Jedi Knight."

"Ah." Resa still smiled, but there was a serious note in her voice. "I wondered if his coming here was related to . . . Well." She glanced at the children, who were still letting Kien fawn over them. He had produced sweets from somewhere.

"As you say, we can discuss it later," Yuli offered. "For now, I'm just glad to be off the street."

Resa nodded. "You can rest in my room, love. You look dead on your feet. We'll talk tonight. Thomas Kien, stop spoiling my daughters this instant!"

Kien looked up with a grin. "Ah, but it's been more than a year since I've seen them. I have to maintain my position as the favourite uncle somehow!"

"Go on, you need to sleep too," she said, shooing him towards a stairway. "You're not fooling me. Jarrod's room is made up, you can sleep there like usual."

Yuli followed Resa through a separate doorway, into a simple bedroom with a large, plain double bed. It wasn't exactly luxurious, but compared to her bunk on the _Sunrise_ or the uncomfortably hard mattress in the _Mischief_ 's medical bay, it seemed as if it were made of clouds. Suddenly realising just how very tired she was, Yuli practically fell onto the bed without waiting for Resa to straighten the covers. She was asleep in seconds.

* * *

When Yuli awoke, she felt immensely refreshed. Trying to sit up, she discovered that she had wound up under the sheets somehow. She had also been stripped down to her underwear, and the dressings on her injured arm had been changed. Glancing around the room, she saw her clothes arrayed neatly on the back of a chair in the corner. Cautiously, she slipped out of bed and retrieved them, then dressed quickly. Tight black pants and a brown leather vest with a white undershirt, the latter of which had been scorched badly by the blaster shot that had clipped her shoulder. Before putting it back on, she tore off the remainder of the damaged sleeve, leaving her injured shoulder bare.

Night had fallen while she slept. She ventured quietly out into the living room, not certain how late it was. As she crossed the threshold, two people who had been in deep, hushed conversation at the table suddenly looked up at her: Resa, and an unfamiliar man with a slight build and salt-and-pepper hair.

"You look well, child," Resa said. "Come, sit with us. This is my husband, Max. Honey, this is the young Jedi I mentioned."

"Hmm." Max looked her up and down with piercing green eyes. "A friend of Kien's, was it?"

"Yes, sir," Yuli said, timidly taking the seat Resa indicated. "I'm very grateful to your family for helping us. I was starting to think I would never sleep soundly again."

"It's only been five hours, dear," Resa said with a frown. "Night falls quickly here. Are you sure you've slept enough?"

"Thank you, but Jedi do not need as much sleep as most people. I doubt I could sleep longer if I wanted to."

Max grunted. "Makes sense. Kien was always in and out at odd hours."

"Never mind that now," Resa said, shushing him. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need, Yuli. The Republic will be on high alert for a while, what with the . . . well."

"What is it?" Yuli asked. "I've been on the run for the last day or so, but I've got no idea what's going on."

Resa and her husband exchanged worried glances. "Well, dear," the older woman began gently, pausing as if to fish for the right words before continuing, "the _official_ story goes like this. On Coruscant a day or two ago, a group of Jedi acting on the Council's orders attempted to assassinate Chancellor Palpatine. They were interrupted before they could finish the job, however, alerting the Republic to their treachery."

"Impossible," Yuli breathed, fighting to keep her voice steady. She was supposed to be a Jedi, wasn't she? Where did she get off letting her emotions get in the way of her judgement? She breathed in deeply, forcing herself to relax. "I mean – that sounds highly unlikely. The Jedi have never sought power or dominion over the galaxy. It's how we maintain our role as peacekeepers."

"You're completely right, of course," Max ventured. "I don't believe this for a second. But Palpatine addressed the Senate immediately afterwards. I saw the footage, and he was . . . changed. Scarred almost beyond recognition by the 'Jedi attack'. It convinced a lot of people, I think."

"The Jedi have been declared enemies of the state." Resa picked up the tale again, her voice hollow. "They are being hunted down all over the galaxy as we speak. The Jedi Temple has fallen, and every Jedi inside killed. I hate to be the one to say it, but . . . it doesn't look good. Very few Jedi seem to have survived."

"That's not the worst of it," Max said grimly. "Because of Palpatine's fearmongering, he was able to have the Senate approve the end of the Republic. It's been reformed as the 'Galactic Empire', with Emperor Palpatine at its head." He looked as if it hurt him physically to say the words.

Yuli slumped back into her chair, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. Hundreds of Jedi, dead. Master Sinto. Her friends. They had been at the Temple on Coruscant, along with most everyone she had ever known. Dozens more Jedi had probably been ambushed by their own clone troopers in all corners of the galaxy. No wonder she had felt such a massive, gnawing emptiness in the Force.

"In one day," she whispered. "The Jedi Order. Gone. Why?" She didn't deserve this. She didn't _deserve_ to still be here when the others lay bleeding and broken. In her mind's eye, images rose unbidden. Her venerable master, cut down in his sleep. Younglings, slaughtered indiscriminately. Blood pooling on the floors of the Jedi Temple, thick and black. Were they real? Visions, or just her overactive imagination?

Why had she survived? Nothing made sense. She was not powerful like Master Windu, wise like Master Yoda, or experienced like Master Sinto. How could they die, and she live? She, a Jedi Knight barely out of training, who had been rushed through the Trials and barely survived a brutal campaign on a distant planet? How was that fair in any way?

"Because there must be balance." Kien's voice made her jump. He stood in the stairwell, yawning. Crossing to the table, he took the seat opposite Yuli. "Yo, Max. Been keeping well?"

"I was doing all right until today," Max said sourly.

"How is this _balance_?" Yuli asked, flabbergasted. "The Jedi have kept the galaxy in balance for a thousand years."

"Have they?" Kien asked, looking her straight in the eyes. "The Sith have been lost, thought extinct for nearly a thousand years. In contrast, the Jedi number in the thousands, enjoying a privileged position at the right hand of the Galactic Republic. How is _that_ balance?"

Yuli narrowed her eyes. "I'm not sure I like that line of thinking. Are you saying the Sith should have been allowed to return?"

Sighing, Kien leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his sleep-tousled blond hair. "No. It's . . . more complicated than that, but we'll save it for another time. All I'm saying now is that the Force rarely works the way we expect it to, but it does tend towards _balance_. Just as the darkness was not completely stamped out after the Sith Wars, all light is not extinguished now. We will survive. We _must_ survive."

"I don't know about your dark side," Resa said, "but I'm not letting any more of my family die. You're both welcome here for as long as you need. The Empire will have to bash my door down to get to you two."

"Thank you, Resa, but I can't let you put yourselves in danger like that." Kien's voice was a little sad. "Not again."

"I've been in danger before, Thomas. We all have."

"I know!" Kien hissed, clenching his fists. "I know, I know. I'm only alive today because you and your family risked yourselves for me. But damn it, I don't want it to happen again. I don't want _Yishan_ to happen again."

There was that name again. The room fell silent. Resa and Max shared a look that probably conveyed a lot more than Yuli could see, and Kien exhaled heavily, closing his eyes.

At length, he spoke. "Yuli and I will stay long enough to recover from her wounds and outfit our ship. As soon as both she and the ship are back in one piece and the immediate danger has died down, we'll be on our way. I'm grateful to you, for everything we've been through together, but it ends here."

"And Aoife?" It was Max that spoke first. "Will you abandon her for good?"

Kien hesitated. "No, I – no. I won't. I couldn't. And not just her. I'm not cutting ties with you, Max. You and Resa are the closest thing to family I have now, and I'm not giving that up. But I need to stop leaning on you. The Jedi are being hunted, and like it or not, I'm a target now too."

"Thomas, you haven't been a Jedi for eight years. They probably won't even remember you," Resa said pleadingly. "Stay with us."

"Even if that were true, I've made myself an enemy of this Empire now. And what about Yuli?" Kien asked, his eyes steely. "I'm not going to let her go out on her own, and if she stays here it will bring the Sith down on us. I have connections here, but at the end of the day it is an important Republic system. We need to return to the Outer Rim to stand a chance of surviving. We can hug the smuggler's routes, the ones the Republic can't monitor. We'll move from system to system, maybe make a living as nameless mercenaries. It's the only way."

As Kien continued to explain and Resa tried to talk him down, Yuli stared at the table in front of her as if trying to bore a hole in it with her gaze. A tingle of shame crept up her spine, and she felt her face heat up. While she had been panicking, crying, and fretting about the fate of her friends and masters, Kien had been thinking. Planning. He had not allowed himself to be distracted; it sounded as if he'd been working on his diatribe before Resa had asked him to stay, knowing what her reaction would be. In contrast, what had she done? Nothing. She hadn't even _thought_ about the future, beyond maybe trailing her far more competent, far more experienced Captain through the galaxy like some kind of motherless nuna chick.

"You should leave me," she whispered.

Kien stopped mid-sentence and looked at her. "Why?" was all he said.

"I'll slow you down. I'm worse than useless."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

Kien cracked a grin. "If nothing else, your wit will make empty space more bearable."

"I'm not kidding around here, Kien!" she shouted, standing up and glaring at him. "I'll leave. You can stay here, with these people – with your family! – and I'll . . . I'll find something." It sounded pathetic to her even as she said it. Compared to Kien, with his well-laid out plans and sense of direction, she was nothing more than dead weight. _All the more reason I can't do this._ "Let me stay until I've healed, then I'll find passage offworld and disappear. My presence is putting you all in danger – Max, Resa, their children _and_ _you_ , Kien! If I go, they might find me, but at least you'll be safe."

Kien didn't seem taken aback by her outburst. In fact, he nodded quietly along, looking thoughtful. When she had finished, he glanced at Resa. "I told you so," he said, smirking ever so slightly.

"That you did." There was a spark in Resa's eyes. "She's a real treasure, this one."

"Wha- but, wh-what?" Yuli stammered, caught off guard.

Kien sighed, then pushed his chair back from the table, standing up to look her levelly in the eye. "I was planning to wait a little longer before I asked you formally, but I think I've made up my mind."

"Kien . . ." Yuli said suspiciously, watching as he stepped out and paced the room with steady, even steps.

"You've been trained well," he continued, ignoring her. "Master Sinto and the others at the Temple endowed you with a solid foundation of practical skills, and a strong sense of empathy and justice. These are the hardest things for a Jedi to learn, and you have learned well. However, your training is incomplete. I believe it was a mistake to allow you to face the Jedi Trials. You were not ready, and they were foolish to pretend you were. It was a decision that nearly doomed you."

Yuli shivered. It was true. She hadn't said as much, but secretly she had felt the same. She had known that the Republic was putting more and more pressure on the Jedi to provide commanders, warriors for the front lines. Her Master had expected to study under him some two or three years further, but he had been overruled. Geonosis had nearly killed her a thousand times over.

Kien kept talking. "Right now, we do not know how many Jedi remain alive throughout the galaxy. There could be many, there could be none. Either way, you are now an endangered species. You have a responsibility to protect yourself, protect your knowledge of the Jedi ways, and ensure that it endures – a responsibility that I share."

"You left the Jedi Order," Yuli reminded him. She could see where this was going, and she wasn't sure how she felt about it. "You learned the secrets of the Sith. You were disillusioned with the Council, enough to leave the Jedi Order and strike out alone. You left that responsibility behind eight years ago."

Kien stopped pacing and turned to glance at her, smiling faintly. "I suppose I deserve that," he said, his grin rueful. "Yes, I left the Jedi Order behind, but that was only one of the reasons, and far from the most important. Nevertheless, I feel that duty again. The desire to teach, to pass on what I know so that my wisdom – such as it is – does not die with me. Part of me always wanted an apprentice, so this . . . this is my way of making amends."

 _Oh, dear_ , Yuli thought. _You've gone and done it now._

"Yuli Chath," Kien said formally. "Will you renounce your rank as Knight, becoming a Padawan learner once more? Will you allow me to complete your education in the ways of the Jedi Order, _in absentia_ though we may both be?"

A thousand feelings surged through Yuli's mind. Happiness, loss. Fear, anticipation. Shame, excitement. Confusion. Emotions which had no name, emotions that had no place in the mind of a Jedi Knight. They roiled and tumbled inside her, terrifying her with their number and intensity. For a moment, abject terror leapt to the forefront. What if she failed again? What if she remained a burden forever?

Eventually, though, the stream quietened. Letting herself attune to the Force, Yuli closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, allowing one thing to overwhelm all the others.

Resolve.

She opened her eyes, looking right into Kien's as she let herself exhale. All her worries fled along with that deep breath, flowing off her like water. She opened her mouth.

"Yes, Master."


	5. A Temporary Respite

**Chapter Five  
0425  
Metra (Resa's House)**

* * *

In the small hours of the following morning, Kien stood over Aoife's cot in pitch darkness, listening to the child's breathing, deep and natural.

He had to be sure.

Stretching a hand out over the four-year-old's forehead, Kien reached out gently with the Force. He brushed against her tiny, sleeping mind, and was faintly aware of the others in the house. Max and Resa slept in their own room, Yuli was a bright spot of Force energy, meditating in the living room, and Zelna, the older child, was asleep on the other side of the very room Kien stood in.

Turning his attention back to little Aoife, Kien probed her mind. It was so very small, still growing, and infinitely fragile. She resonated with the Force, as all living things did, but he was looking for something more.

Carefully, he delved further into her delicate mind, moving his hands slowly to focus his exploration. Normally, he would have been convinced already that the child was not Force-sensitive – there had been nothing detectable when he last visited two years ago – but he wasn't going to take any chances.

There was nothing. Aoife's spirit was alive with light, as a healthy child's should be, but her connection to the Force was no greater than any normal person.

Kien breathed a sigh of relief. She would be safe. Withdrawing his Force probe, he left the room as quietly as he had entered, returning to the common area.

His new Padawan cracked one eye open as he entered, glancing at him inquisitively.

"The child will be safe," he said.

"From?"

"Once, from the Jedi. Now, the Sith."

"You seem awfully concerned for her. Er, Master." Yuli would take some time to get used to being a student again, but he was convinced it would be good for her. She hadn't been ready for the level of responsibility that had been thrust upon her, and having someone to defer to once again should relieve some of that pressure. "Were her parents –?"

"Force-sensitives. Close friends of mine," Kien said. "I promised Aoife's mother that I would watch over her, keep her safe."

"And if she was Force-sensitive like her parents, the Jedi would have come for her."

"Yes. And although I parted with the Jedi on reasonably good terms, it was the last place I wanted her to end up. The dangerous time has now passed, though. She will grow up as a normal girl. That is the only way I will consider my promise fulfilled."

Yuli was silent for a while, as if she had returned to her meditation. "Where . . . are her parents now?"

"I think you know the answer to that without asking," Kien said quietly. He knelt down opposite her and joined her in meditation, though he stayed well above the level of the Deathtrance.

"They're dead, aren't they?" Yuli's voice was soft.

"Her mother died giving birth to her."

"And her father?"

"Dead before he even knew his wife was pregnant."

Yuli was silent, but Kien felt the faintest of tremors in the Force.

"Calm yourself, Padawan. It is a sad tale, but it is all in the past now."

"Weren't they friends of yours?"

"They were," he said levelly. _Shit, this is hard._ How much could he tell her? He didn't quite feel ready to reveal the whole story yet. "They are one with the Force now. Nothing ever truly dies. It may seem strange, but that puts my mind at ease."

"I think I understand," Yuli said.

"I doubt it. It's been nearly five years, and I still don't. For now, my apprentice, you should return to your meditation. You have a lot to think about, so I apologise for disturbing you."

Thankfully, Yuli fell silent at last. Inquisitiveness was not a bad trait in a Padawan, but he would have to be careful that it did not develop into recklessness. Despite what he had said, Kien did not intend to teach the young Pantoran in the way he had learned. No, for better or worse, the Jedi Order had fallen – and with it, the iron grip of the Jedi Code.

 _I will do better._ The thought sent a guilty thrill through his body, but simultaneously excited him. He would teach her _his_ way, not the old, conservative ways of the Jedi. There was more than one way to serve the light side of the Force, and he would have to bet on his way if they were to survive.

Exhaling slowly, Kien sank back into meditation. He had an apprentice now, and it was his responsibility to do right by her. That started this very day. Casting his mind back ten, nearly twenty years, he remembered the first time he met his own Master.

* * *

Yuli roused herself from her meditative trance as the sun rose, feeling unbelievably refreshed. The oppressive weight of yesterday's tragedy still hung over her, but there was hope now. Light, where before there had been only darkness. Purpose, instead of confusion.

Okay, that was a lie. She was still confused. She couldn't just accept her new fate like that – or could she? There were no longer any chains on her. She was not shackled by the mores of the Jedi Council, nor the laws of the Republic, nor the expectations of her peers. For the first time in a long while, she had nothing to do but follow and learn.

Despite being stripped of her Knight rank, Yuli didn't feel like she had been demoted. The title had ill suited her anyway, like an uncomfortable second skin that she would never grow into. Returning to the role of apprentice felt oddly refreshing.

Rising, Yuli stretched, holding her wounded arm carefully so as not to damage it again. It still ached, but the blaster wounds were healing fast; she figured she might be able to return to full strength within another week or so.

Kien was gone, she realised with a jolt. Throughout her meditation, she had sensed his presence nearby, but she couldn't say when it had disappeared. Reaching out with the Force, she found him out in the street.

With a frown, she followed him out the front door, wondering when he could have slipped out from under her nose.

"Morning, Blue," Kien said cheerfully, tipping his hat to her in comically over-exaggerated fashion.

"Master," she replied, giving the small bow that was the proper sign of respectful greeting from a Padawan.

"Enough of that," he said, rolling his eyes. "While we're on Takshi, at least, we aren't Jedi. For that matter, hide your lightsaber. Where's your cloak?"

"Please don't make me wear that again," she pleaded, secreting the saber inside her vest. "I might just melt."

Kien chuckled as he set off uphill, back the way they had come the previous evening. The street was empty and cool, given the hour, but the sun already peeked over the horizon, hinting at the intense heat that would surely come. "Fine. I suppose you'll draw less attention without it."

"I could have told you that yesterday," she grumbled, but followed him.

"Today, you begin training once again," Kien said. "We have two important missions to take care of. I wanted you to accompany me to get you used to these sorts of things."

"What sorts of things?"

"Objective one," Kien said, ticking points off on his fingers. "What is the state of our ship?"

"I . . . I don't really know. Bad?" Yuli winced. "I'm not the pilot here."

"Hmm," Kien droned. "That may be so, but as a fugitive, your life depends on our ship just as much as mine does. So tell me, how should we proceed with regards to the _Mischief_?"

Realising that as far as Master Kien was concerned, her training had already begun, Yuli took a deep breath and cast her mind back to the spaceport on Lanteeb. "The hyperdrive and sublight drives are fixed, which is the main concern if we need to leave quickly."

"And?"

"Most of the systems were fixed, I think, but the hull is still damaged. Does that really matter all that much?"

"Okay, new question." Kien switched tack. "You're a Republic – no, wait, an _Imperial_ inspector, performing a routine check of all ships docked at Metra Spaceport, with additional instructions to identify possible Jedi fugitives. What are you looking for?"

"Well, anything suspicious, I guess."

"Like what?" he prompted.

"Ships reported stolen, ships bearing the Jedi insignia or otherwise related to the Temple, ships that . . . oh. Ships damaged in a firefight."

"Exactly. Civilian ships don't get pummelled by turbolasers like the _Mischief_ did. That level of damage to a supposedly civilian craft should at the very least be cause for further investigation. So, what do we do about it?"

"We get it repaired, I guess." Yuli shrugged. "Do we have credits?"

"Max loaned me some," Kien said, jingling a fat pouch at his waist. "I don't dare try to access my account here, so cash only for now. We'll find a suitable body shop and get the hull repaired. Anything else?"

Yuli started to shake her head, but then hesitated. It was a leading question; of course there was something else. But what?

"You've already said it," Kien prodded. "Just one more connection to make."

It came to her in a flash. "If they know we took the pirate ship, they'll be looking for it. We need to make it unrecognisable somehow."

"Exactly. The ship is a custom, so it would be easy to track down, but hard to pin down if you hadn't seen it already. It'll need a new coat of paint and a name, at the very least. We can probably get that done at the same time as the repairs."

"All right. What's mission two?"

Kien grinned, a spark in his eyes. "We're going to get my lightsaber," he said.

* * *

Max had referred Kien to a friend of his who owned a body shop on the outskirts of the city. Figuring it would be quicker than walking, he decided to simply fly the _Mischief_ over there – in a roundabout way. On the way to the spaceport, he continued quizzing Yuli, teasing answers out of her that she already knew, but hadn't realised yet. Having a pupil was dangerously fun.

"So you see the different clothing styles here," he said as they entered the main street, which was slowly starting to fill with people. Most were on foot, though the odd speeder zoomed past. For a capital city, Metra was positively drowsy, at least on the surface. "Why do you think they dress as they do?"

After a slightly painful start, Yuli was taking to this game at an encouraging pace. "The cottons and silks are light and breathable," she said, pointing out a pretty young woman who wore a combination of both. "It must be fairly hot here most of the time."

"And the colours? Or lack thereof."

Yuli's mouth twisted as she craned her neck to study the girl further. "I don't know," she admitted, sounding a little put out.

Kien smiled inwardly. She really was still a child in many ways, he reflected, as he scanned their surroundings enough for both of them. "Not knowing something is no shame, so long as you admit it," he said. "Guess."

"Umm . . . because they're pretty?" Yuli ventured, then blushed. "Sorry."

"No, you're exactly right. The people of Takshi have long been lovers of the arts. Music, theatre, painting and architecture," he explained, gesturing at a large mosaic that covered a nearby wall. "Their clothes are much like the people themselves: flamboyant, exuberant and colourful."

"What about the white, then?"

"That's just cooler in the sun. Silk is expensive, plus it's kind of . . . diaphanous. A full outfit made of loose, flappy silks is just asking for trouble, so they wear the white cotton to fill the gaps. More white corresponds to less money, usually, but some of the elite have taken to wearing it as a symbol of asceticism."

"Not that this isn't all very interesting, _Master_ ," Yuli said, leaning slightly sarcastically on the last word, "but I don't really see what use this could possibly be."

Kien frowned. This was a little more difficult than he'd anticipated. He'd been hoping she would pick up on the gist of his questioning by now, but she was still not seeing the big picture, and he had to resist the urge to spell it out for her. _Oh, well. We're here for another week at least. Plenty of time. For now . . ._ He shrugged. "It isn't, really. Not immediately, anyway. I believe you can never have too much useless knowledge. The more information you pack inside your head, the greater the chance that some of it will be useful one day."

"That's all well and good, Master, but . . . Takshian fashion trends? Really?"

Kien raised an eyebrow, but offered no apology. Every minute spent thinking about clothes was a minute she didn't spend dwelling on her misfortune or the fate of the other Jedi. There would be a time for reflection, maybe even action, but now, what was most important was keeping her in one piece – body and mind both – long enough to reach somewhere truly safe.

Five minutes later, the dented, battered _Mischief_ lifted off from the spaceport, entering a low-traffic lane headed for the outskirts. The navigation computer locked the ship's steering onto the preset lanes, avoiding congestion and other mishaps.

When they reached their destination, Kien touched the ship down behind a large, squat building – made of metal, not the clay that was so prevalent everywhere else. The mechanic's workyard was large and dusty, with junk scattered everywhere. The _Mischief_ squeezed into a tight spot between a partially disassembled speeder and a venerable-looking freighter, managing to avoid clipping them by inches.

A young, dark-skinned man popped out from behind one of the junk piles, wiping his hands on a greasy cloth tucked into his belt. He sauntered over as Kien and Yuli exited the ship, letting out a low whistle as he met them at the door.

"Looks like you's've been through some shit, pal," he said, his accent soft and twangy. Upon closer inspection, Kien realised that he wasn't quite human. His hazel eyes had elongated pupils, and a forked tongue flickered in his mouth, though it didn't seem to impede his speech much.

"You could say that," Kien agreed cagily. "Max sent us. Said you were the kind of guy who doesn't ask questions. Was he wrong?"

The mechanic grinned far more widely than was natural – or physically possible. "Ha! Don't worry about this guy, sirrah. I just talks to myself. If old Max sent you, I'll take your credits off you, don't you fret."

Kien tilted his head, considering the man in front of him. He resonated good intentions in a way that few living beings did, though he didn't need the Force to see that. He wasn't bluffing, either. Probably. "All right," he said eventually. "My name is Fulbar, and I'm a friend of Max's from offworld. My ship took some damage in an 'asteroid field', so I need you to clean her up. Can you do that?"

"Of course! I'm's a busy man, though, sirrah, might taking a few days."

Kien nodded. "Understandable. We'll be in Metra until the end of the week. Can I leave the ship with you in the meantime?"

"I's guarding her with my life, yessir, or my names isn't Blaze."

Kien wouldn't have known if that weren't the case, but he didn't point that out. "I think she needs a fresh coat of paint as well. Can you do that?"

"Sure sure! What you's got in mind?"

"Red and gold, I think. And her name will be . . . the _Coruscant Sunset_." Kien had given this a lot of thought over the last few hours. It might have been a little foolish, he thought, but if he was going to live onboard a ship – as he would be for the foreseeable future – he would rather stamp his own personality on it than borrow the pirates'.

"Can do! I can lend you's a speeder till you get your ship back, too. You want?"

Kien had been planning to walk where he needed to be, but he hesitated. "What's the cost?"

"Free, for the pretty lady." Blaze winked at Yuli, who suddenly became very interested in the nearby junk pile. "Plus I's got your ship. Not concerned you's gonna run off without getting that back."

"Then we'll graciously accept."

After sorting out the details, Kien and Yuli zoomed off in a bright green landspeeder, which – despite looking as if it had been around since the Ruusan Reformation – ran surprisingly well.

"And there, my young Padawan," Kien said with amusement, "you see the value of being young, attractive and available."

"I'm not _available_ , Master," Yuli complained. "The Jedi Code-"

"- does not prohibit pretending to be interested in order to gain an advantage," he interrupted her. "You'd do well to consider improving your flirting skills."

Yuli gave him a strange look. "Master . . . deception is not the Jedi way. You know as well as I do that the Council frowns on such actions."

"The Council is understanding of many actions when one's life is in danger. So long as your core principles are not compromised, a great many things are permissible."

"My life was not in danger at the _mechanic's yard_ , Master," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Are you talking back to me, Blue?" Kien teased.

"No, Master. I just . . ."

"Listen, Yuli," he said seriously, manoeuvring the speeder around a small trading post. "I'm adding a new tenet to our Jedi Code: Flexibility above all. The Jedi Code as it stands served us well enough in times of peace, but if we follow it blindly now we will surely meet our doom. Rigidity and inflexibility are admirable virtues, but they have no place in a life as dangerous as ours have now become. The Jedi Council were proud of their conservatism, and their adherence to the ancient ways, and look where that got them."

"You think they deserved to die? Because they were all old stick-in-the-muds?"

"Stars, no! Master Yoda and the other members of the Council were as good and wise as Jedi have ever been. I just . . . wish they'd listened to reason a little more."

"Oh." Yuli cast her eyes downward.

"Anyway. What I want to say is this: we must adapt to survive. The Jedi Order's inability to do this has always been their great weakness. I fear it was only a matter of time before something such as this happened, but . . . never did I expect it would be so catastrophic."

They drove on in silence for some minutes, Kien worrying if he had gone too far, too fast. They passed the city limits and slowed down as they entered the streets shared with pedestrians.

"I think . . . I kind of get it," Yuli said at length. "It's difficult to accept because it goes against all of my training, but . . . the stakes have changed, haven't they?"

"Yes," Kien said grimly. "If we're going to survive, we may have to do some very un-Jedi things. If that starts with being willing to bat your eyelashes a little, so be it."

Yuli winced, but nodded in acquiescence. "I guess."

"Don't worry," Kien said, winking in what he hoped was a flirtatious manner. "I'll do my part too, of course."

"Oh, no, please don't. Anything but that, Master!"

Kien laughed uproariously. "All right, looks like I need some practice too. Think I should start with Mar?"

"Master, in the history of the galaxy, there have been few ideas worse than that one. Wasn't it Mar who said she never wanted to see you again?"

Kien felt the humour bleed out of him. "That may be the case, but I don't have a choice. She has my lightsaber."

"What? Why would you trust her with something so important?" Yuli exclaimed.

Kien pulled the speeder to a stop in front of a small house, undecorated and unassuming. "You don't know Mar like I do. She holds a hell of a grudge – understandably so – but I would trust her with my life without a second thought."

"You don't think she'd try to, you know, take revenge for her sister? She seemed plenty furious yesterday."

"No, she's far too honourable for that. She owes me her life many times over, and while it doesn't erase her hatred of me, it does temper it somewhat."

"Still . . ." Yuli looked unconvinced. "Do you want me to talk to her instead? Perhaps say I sent you to fetch the lightsaber? It might work . . ."

"Oh, we're not talking to her," Kien said, hopping out of the speeder with a mischievous grin. "The lady of the house will be at work all day. Watch the street for me." Retrieving a small tool from his belt, he bent down, inserted it in the keyhole of Mar's front door, and began wiggling it gently.

"Master!" Yuli hissed, sounding positively scandalised. "Are you – are _we_ breaking in?"

Kien lifted a finger in her direction, wagging it mockingly. "Flexibility, my young Padawan," he chided, pressing an ear against the door and continuing his probing. With a _click_ , the tumblers fell into place and the door swung open.

* * *

Kien stepped back proudly, grinning. "Ta-daa! Now we don't have to deal with Mar, and she doesn't have to see my face. I'm just following instructions."

Yuli sighed, but she followed him inside regardless, giving the street one last fretful glance. "You know, Master . . . couldn't you unlock it with the Force?"

Kien paused, cocking his head sideways and looking at her as if seriously considering it. "Yeeeees," he admitted eventually, "but that wouldn't be nearly as fun."

"Ugh." Yuli rolled her eyes.

"Plus," Kien continued, "this way I don't risk breaking anything." He paused in the hallway, stretching his arms out and closing his eyes.

"You . . . _do_ know where your lightsaber is, don't you?" she asked hesitantly.

"I know where it _should_ be," he said. "Whether it's actually still there, or if she's moved it to spite me, remains to be seen."

Yuli knew she wouldn't be much use here; Kien was the one with the personal connection to the weapon, so he would be able to sense it far more easily. Instead, she let her curiosity get the better of her, wandering around the common area. There wasn't much. The entrance hallway was bare but for a shoe rack and wall-mounted holocom station, and the living room wasn't much better. A single picture adorned the wall near a comfortable chair. Attracted to the image for reasons she couldn't fully explain, Yuli drew closer.

There were two women in the picture, an old-fashioned physical print. Clearly related, with the same angular cheekbones and high bridge, they shared a sisterly embrace as they posed for the camera. The shorter one had close-cropped, jet-black hair, though, in sharp contrast to the other's curly red mop. A sudden spike of sadness pierced Yuli as she realised that this was probably a remnant of Mar's dead sister. Which one was which?

"Ah." Kien's voice came from just behind her left ear, making her jump. His eyes were still closed, but he had crept up behind her as she examined the picture without her noticing. "Did you sense it too?"

"Uh, sure."

Kien moved past her smoothly, lifting the picture off the wall. It swung outward on a hidden hinge, revealing a metal safe. He tutted disapprovingly. "Not the most secure location."

"It's in there, then?"

"Certainly. Now, for the code . . ." He frowned and started punching buttons on the number pad.

"You don't know it?" Yuli raised an eyebrow. "What were you supposed to do, just hope Mar was in a good mood the day you came to pick it up?"

"There's only a few it could be. Mar is a very straightforward person, so it will be something like . . . a-ha." There was triumph in his voice as the door swung open, but also a note of melancholy. "Yishan's birthday."

"Oh." There wasn't much more she could say to that. She craned her neck. "So . . . is it in there?"

"Well . . . no," Kien admitted, sounding vaguely perturbed. Reaching one arm into the narrow, deep compartment, he rummaged around, pulling out some documents, a handful of credits and another photo, which he glanced at briefly before placing it face down on the table. "Ah, a false back," he said, now almost up to his shoulder in the wall. His face contorted slightly, and Yuli heard scrabbling noises from the back of the safe.

"Fuck it," he muttered, withdrawing his hand. "Plan B." As he stretched his hand back towards the safe, Yuli felt a familiar tug as he drew on the Force. With a horrible grating sound, a metal plate came loose and flew out of the safe, falling to the floor with a clatter. Not a second later, it was followed by a lightsaber, which Kien caught in his outstretched hand and ignited, a bright yellow blade illuminating the room even in daylight.

"It's . . . beautiful," Yuli breathed. She had seen many sabers in her years at the Jedi Temple, of course, but most of them were blocky, utilitarian affairs. The hilt of Kien's blade was different. Several panels on the sides appeared to be made of some kind of wood, though she knew that could not be the case. Wood was a poor housing for the volatile components that made the weapons work. The sides were carved in a scrolling pattern which incorporated the burnished metal visible in some places, melding together as if it had been grown, not constructed. A certain elegance characterised the design, something which made Yuli awfully conscious of her own lightweight, but blocky lightsaber.

"You like it?" Kien grinned, giving it a twirl. "Man, this feels good. It's been nearly three years since I handed this over to Mar for safekeeping . . ."

"At the start of the Clone War?"

"Yes," Kien said, deactivating his blade and stowing the weapon within his tunic. "I'd been away from the Jedi Order for five years by that point, and I was beginning to think it would be for the best if I turned my back on that life completely."

"But you didn't." Yuli collected the various effects that Kien had removed from the safe, returning them to their place.

"Until yesterday, I had," Kien said quietly. He picked up the square of metal that had served as a false back, inspected it briefly, shrugged, and discarded it again, swinging the safe door shut with a _clang_. "I shut myself off from the Force, forced myself to forget all my training. I was always slightly uneasy about it, but I convinced myself it was for the best. I see now that it wasn't."

Yuli watched anxiously as Kien set about returning the room to the way it had been, guilt tugging at her insides. "You know, Master, I never properly thanked you for what you did on the _Sunrise_."

"Don't mention it. We should leave," he added, placing the warped metal square on the table and tilting his head towards the door. After closing the front door behind them, Kien paused before entering the speeder and continued, "That battle on the _Sunrise_ opened my eyes to a lot of things, Yuli. Not least of which was that I was foolish to ever throw away what I had spent a lifetime training for. I should be thanking you instead."

Yuli shook her head firmly. "No, you shouldn't. You saved my life, against all odds. You disobeyed orders, abandoned your ship and crew. Now you're helping me hide from the entire Empire, making yourself a fugitive just as surely as I am. You've even taken me on as your apprentice! Moons, Master, you could have just stood aside and nothing would have happened. You would have escaped the Separatist fleet with your men and continued your Navy service. I can't believe you would just throw everything away like that for . . . for me." She trailed off pitiably, realising her tirade was having the opposite of her intended effect. Which was . . . wait, what was she hoping to achieve again?

"You're right, in a way," Kien sighed, hopping into the speeder and gesturing for her to do the same. "But on that bridge, to me, there was suddenly only one option. And standing by to let my men execute you was not it." There was a note of disgust in his voice whenever he mentioned the clones now. Did he blame them? Or was it simply that the true orchestrator of the day's atrocities was hidden from them, so there was nobody else within reach to strike out against?

Whatever the case, Yuli clearly felt his pain and sorrow as the speeder lifted off once more, repulsorlifts thrumming. Kien didn't often cloak his emotions like other Jedi, which was just one of many worrying, yet intriguing things about him. "Well . . . thank you, Master. For everything."

Kien smiled. "Your gratitude is accepted and returned twice over, Padawan," he said, his voice so soft she could only just hear it over the speeder's engines. "Let's go home for today."


	6. And Then There Were Three

_Author Notes: I'd like to thank those who have taken the time to read and review. Writing in the Star Wars universe is new to me, so I will miss facts, invariably do things that have been done before - especially as I_ do _appreciate Lucas' ideas of symmetry between storylines - and some aspects of the story will seem odd. I spent some six years writing Pokemon fanfiction, which is a horse of a_ very _different colour, so I appreciate your patience as I learn and grow. I constantly have multiple Wookieepedia tabs open, as despite years of reading_ Star Wars _books as a kid, there is a_ LOT _of material I'm completely unfamiliar with. Oh dear._

 _Secondly, a couple of the things addressed have actually already been remedied or adjusted in later chapters (I have some seven or eight more ready to go, but this is very much a work in progress). For instance, the question of profanity has weighed on my mind a little, and since the relatively F-bomb laden first chapter, I've found myself phasing them out in favour of in-universe terms like 'frell', 'frak', 'kriff', or even - wait for it - not swearing at all._

 _One last fun fact before I go: A long time ago in a rough draft far, far away, Kien actually did begin life as a self-insert, which may be why he can seem a bit over-talented at times. Clearly I haven't beaten the Gary Stu out of him completely yet, so we'll have to readjust the sliders and see how that winds up. It could be interesting to see what happens the first time he comes up against another dude with a lightsaber. I hate to be the guy who says 'just wait and see, X criticism is addressed thirty chapters later', though, so I'll do my best to show it through my writing instead of italicised novels at the start of every damned chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter Six  
Metra**

* * *

The next three days passed quietly and without incident. Kien spent them resting and meditating, pondering their next move and catching up on news from Coruscant. There were a great deal of HoloNet broadcasts, Imperial decrees and announcements, few of them good. When Chancellor Palpatine had convinced the Senate to grant him emergency powers at the outbreak of the Clone War, most commentators and other educated individuals had been fairly charitable in their assumptions that he would step down. The erstwhile Senator from Naboo, after all, had rarely displayed any great ambition; he had only allowed himself to be elected to his post in the first place in order to swiftly resolve the Naboo Crisis over a decade earlier. When the actions of the Separatists became too bold and too swift for a fragmented Senate to effectively handle, he had accepted the proposed emergency powers with great and obvious reluctance – or so it had seemed at the time.

It had been an act from the start, he was sure of that now. The more Kien heard about this new Empire, the more he became convinced that he was dealing with a Sith agent. The sudden surge in the dark side of the Force did not necessarily mean that evil Force-sensitives were involved – any sufficiently terrible event could cause that – but the simple fact that the Jedi had been so utterly blindsided by Palpatine's betrayal proved, in his mind at least, that there had been something far more sinister involved.

The official story, as Resa and Max had relayed to him earlier, ran that the Jedi had sent assassins to murder Palpatine in his office. How these assailants had been defeated was not satisfactorily explained; had it even happened? If it had, Kien believed, this was surely proof that a Sith Lord was involved. Who else could strike down four Jedi?

The question that he meditated on, then, was _who_. Who was the Sith Lord that whispered in Palpatine's ear? Who was the seditious monster who had driven a wedge between the Jedi and the Republic, only to destroy both and replace them with an authoritarian regime under a puppet Emperor? Kien had briefly entertained the possibility that Palpatine himself may have been Sith, but it was next to impossible. The Chancellor had been in close contact with the Jedi Council for many years, each enjoying having the other's ear. Kien himself had met with the man once or twice, and had found him personable enough, if calculatedly so. He was a snake, that was for sure, but if he had been a Sith Lord, the Jedi would have rooted him out long ago.

No, the likely candidates were Palpatine's advisors. But who? The Chagrian, Amedda? One of his endless list of hangers-on? It would have been easy for a sufficiently powerful Force user to play the Senate from the shadows, using the Chancellor as a mouthpiece and a distraction before installing him as Emperor. Who knew how long that would last?

Growing frustrated with this circular line of reasoning, Kien opened his eyes and switched the HoloNet News back on. It was a rerun of the official Declaration of a New Order, which he had seen a dozen times by now, but he let it run anyway:

 _"- elitist, dangerous powers!"_ the frail, scarred Palpatine was exhorting on Resa's living room viewscreen. _"Our loyal clone troopers contained the insurrection within the Jedi Temple and quelled uprisings on a thousand worlds._

 _"The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated! Any collaborators will suffer the same fate. These have been trying times, but we have passed the test. The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed, but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger. The war is over -"_

Kien slammed the mute button, feeling sick to his stomach. 'Containing the insurrection within the Jedi Temple' and 'quelling uprisings on a thousand worlds' could only mean one thing: thousands of Jedi had been slaughtered. Every clone trooper in the galaxy had received the same order as Wire and his men, turning their blasters on their Jedi commanders and taking them by surprise, exactly as Yuli had been ambushed on the _Sunrise_.

How many had survived? His gut told him that there were few. There would be some, of course – each Jedi was worth dozens of clone troopers in a fair fight – but how many hundreds, thousands of his brethren had fallen with a blaster bolt in the back before they even knew what was happening? The Jedi he had worked with, at least, had come to trust the clones over the course of the war. Why would they guard against the very men who they had become accustomed to following them stoically into hell and back?

A mudfly whined lazily by, tracing lackadaisical loops in front of the viewscreen. As if to mock the Supreme-Chancellor-turned-Emperor, it drew a wobbly circle around his face before meandering onwards, drunkenly floating through the dusty, sun-dappled air. Kien let himself sink back to the floor into a meditative posture, pushing distractions away. He had just begun contemplating a return to his useless thoughts when his commlink vibrated loudly.

He checked the caller ID before touching a key, bringing the device to his lips: "Blaze. What news?"

"All good news, sirrah!" the strange mechanic's voice echoed from the communicator. "Yours _Coruscant Sunset_ is ready to go. Come by with my's speeder and other fifty percents of the fee, and you's can having her back!"

"Of course, Blaze. Thank you." Kien glanced at the news channel again, which displayed the local time in the bottom corner. It was still early afternoon. "I'll be there shortly."

"Yessir! You brings your pretty friend with you 'gain, maybe I give you discount!" Blaze laughed uproariously, the communicator distorting his voice, then ended the transmission.

Kien shook his head in amusement, then stood and glanced at the stairwell. "Yuli!" he called. He could sense her meditating, but she was only in the children's room. Within a few seconds, she descended the stairwell, looking at him curiously.

"Yes, Master?"

He grinned. "Let's go pick up our new ride." As she drew closer, he caught a glimpse of tell-tale redness in her eyes, but Yuli blinked and averted her gaze. He sighed internally; there was still a long road to acceptance ahead of her. Although he knew he himself would never truly come to terms with the catastrophe, he hoped that they both would one day be at peace with it.

"Come on, Blue," he said quietly.

* * *

Kien spent the journey to Blaze's shipyard in silence. A few times he glanced across at Yuli, trying to puzzle out a way past her defences. She had grown increasingly withdrawn over the past few days, with nothing to do but meditate. He himself had suggested they remain in Resa's house, but boredom would have been the natural consequence of that at the best of times. Combined with her already delicate mental state and lack of experience and worldliness, he feared the young Pantoran could become dangerously off-kilter. The sooner they got off Takshi, the better. For all the history that he had on this planet, it was still a world that drew the eye of the Republic.

At length, he forced himself to make conversation. Distraction might be his only weapon in this battle. "How's your arm, Yuli?"

She flexed it experimentally. "Getting there," she said with a thin-lipped smile. "It will be a little longer before I can handle my lightsaber properly, but it'll do in a pinch."

"Been changing your bacta packs regularly?"

"Of course, Master. I was never an accomplished healer, but I do know basic first aid."

"Oh, really. I'm glad about that, because as it turns out, basic first aid and field medicine are exactly the same thing," Kien said drily, glancing sideways at her to see if his sarcasm had triggered a response. There had been a brief period where Yuli was willing to spar verbally with him, and it had been good distraction for them both, but now she was reclaiming the mindset of a Padawan, obedient and respectful – if a little distant. He would have to fix that sooner or later; he wanted an apprentice, a partner, not a servant.

Yuli didn't respond, turning to look out at the city that slipped away behind them.

Blaze wasn't waiting for them when they reached the shipyard. Parking the speeder out front, Kien and Yuli circled the workshop on foot.

"Remember," he reminded her quietly, "be willing to chat with our friend. I may not be credit-pinching, exactly, but it's good practice for getting what you want."

Yuli only rolled her eyes and tutted, but Kien was satisfied. At least it was a response of sorts. Rounding the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks.

The erstwhile _Harmless Mischief_ , newly christened _Coruscant Sunset_ , gleamed in the afternoon sun. Set in prime position, well away from Blaze's other projects, their view was only obscured by a slight dust haze kicked up by an errant breeze. Painted nose to tail in a deep, dusky red, it finally looked complete once again. A single golden yellow stripe ran down the flank, curving with the lines of the smoothly repaired hull. Inside the band, the words _Coruscant Sunset_ were printed in a simple, elegant High Galactic hand. The viewports had been polished, the dorsal wing straightened, and a gently sloped access ramp now protruded from the main door, inviting them inside. Blaze himself stood next to it, polishing the door controls with the same dusty rag he had been carrying the other day, or one so similar as to seem identical. When he saw them, he grinned and beckoned them over.

"What's you think?" he asked eagerly. "You like?"

"Blaze, my friend, I am exceptionally impressed," Kien said with genuine feeling, clasping the mechanic's hand. "You do fine work."

Blaze's smile widened, pumping Kien's hand enthusiastically. "I's glad you like," he said, but then glanced around and drew Kien closer. "Come inside, sirrah. I'm show you upgrades."

This gave Kien pause. "Upgrades? I didn't think I commissioned any interior upgrades, Blaze."

"Surprises, yessir. Come, come!" He dashed up the ramp at a frenetic speed, leaving Kien and Yuli to follow, nonplussed.

"Be on your guard, Yuli," Kien mumbled. "I'm not sure what, but something is wrong."

"I sense it too, Master," she whispered, loosening her vest to facilitate a quick lightsaber draw if necessary. "Do you think he's double-crossing us?"

"I don't know." The hardest three words to admit as a master.

They found Blaze waiting next to the holotable in the central common area, his smile replaced by a look of intense concentration. A sharp hologram rose from the table, depicting Resa's husband, who stood attentively but nervously.

"Max," Kien said with a frown. "What's going on?"

"Bad news, Kien," the hologram said. "New directive just filtered down to me. Imperial Intelligence is investigating a potential Jedi fugitive in the city. I don't know how much they know, but it's bad. Troopers, agents from Coruscant, the works."

"Shit!" Kien hissed, slamming both fists on the table's edge. "How did they track us here?"

"We don't know yet. I'm not privy to all the details, but they've been on the lookout for a couple of days." Max's job with what had once been Republic Intelligence had always been useful for procuring information, but his lack of the near-fanatical devotion that characterised many of his peers had impeded his climb through the ranks. Always a family man, Max had retained his minor administrative position for some years now. "Kien, you need to get off this planet _now_."

Kien nodded. "You're right, Max. I've put you, Resa and the girls in more than enough danger already. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," Max said gruffly. "Our door is always open to you, but if you stay here any longer you will be found. Get offworld, and soon enough their trail – whatever it is – will go cold. And . . . there's one more thing."

"Uh-oh," Kien said. "I know that voice. What do you need?"

"You're right, I need a favour. It should help you too, though. Blaze?"

Blaze, who had remained silent throughout the whole conversation, now stepped forward. "Master Kien, sir," he said. All traces of his hodgepodge accent had vanished, replaced by a rough Core brogue. _Alderaan, or somewhere along the Axis?_ His posture had changed too, becoming more upright and less casual. Not quite military, but disciplined. "I'd like to join your crew."

Trying not to let his surprise show, Kien narrowed his eyes. "And why should I do that?"

"In truth, sir, I'm not what I seem to be. Due to circumstances beyond my control, I've been living on Takshi as a fugitive from the Republic since the Clone War began, with Max's help. Unfortunately, the past week has convinced me it's time to move on."

"If you want me to even consider taking you on, you're going to have to tell me what it is you've done."

"Family business, sir. My father was a notorious smuggler. I inherited his illegal dealings – and all his debts – when he met with a sticky end on Duro. Ran the enterprise for a few years, but it was never the life for me. I'm ashamed to admit I abandoned ship and struck out alone, but between the Republic enforcers and various loan sharks, I could never fully disappear – until I landed on Takshi and met Max."

"I helped him set up a false identity and laid a false trail for his pursuers to follow," Max's hologram said. "I'll vouch for him. I only sent you to Blaze in the first place because I know he's trustworthy. Look, I have to go. I don't like parting like this, but it's the best for everyone."

Kien nodded. "I understand. Thank you again for everything, Max. Say thanks to Resa and the girls for me too. And . . . I'm sorry."

With a quick salute, Max's hologram fizzled and cut out, leaving the three of them alone. "So?" Blaze prompted hopefully.

"Hmm. You could be useful, I'll admit. What's your skillset?" Kien asked, buying time while he thought it over.

"Well, obviously, I'm a mechanic for starters. I can perform onboard repairs and so on. I can fly in a pinch too, and I'm a decent shot."

"Blaster or cannon?"

"Either or, sir." Blaze grinned, and for a moment there was a glimpse of the manic personality they had met earlier. How much of that was affected, and how much was genuine?

"And you've suddenly decided to up and leave now because . . . why exactly?"

"I'll be honest with you, sir," Blaze said. "I've been meaning to move on and start over for some time, and the sudden declaration of a New Order and Imperial crackdowns have gotten me spooked. The net is drawing tighter. When Max said he was sending me a trusted friend of his as a customer, I started thinking you could be my ticket out of here."

Kien nodded slowly. "And you're aware we won't exactly be pursuing an idyllic new life of indulgence and relaxation? We'll be living out of the ship, moving from system to system, getting credits wherever we can find them. Smuggling, mercenary work, whatever it takes to survive and stay out of the Empire's sights. We're fugitives too, in short. You won't find much freedom with us."

"I understand, sir." Blaze stubbornly drew himself up to his full height, but his flickering tongue betrayed his anxiety. "I'm prepared. Takshi is no place for me any longer, and I'd rather ship out with you than take my chances as a deckhand on some scungy freighter out of Corellia."

Kien regarded the near-human thoughtfully for a few seconds before turning to his apprentice. "And what do you think, Yuli?"

"Me?" She had been silent this whole time, and seemed taken aback at being directly addressed.

"What do you say to taking on an extra pair of hands?"

"With respect, that's your decision to make, Mas- Captain, not mine." She shook her head minutely, as if to absolve herself of all responsibility.

"You're as much a member of this crew as I am, Blue. Your opinion matters."

Yuli pursed her lips. "I don't really like it," she said reluctantly, "but I feel like I'm just being paranoid. I'm sorry, but this week I've been . . . not myself."

"At least you realise it," Kien said with resigned amusement. "I take it you can't find any reason to oppose this, then?"

The blue-skinned girl cocked her head and examined Blaze one more time. "No," she said at length. "I think he'd make a decent addition to the crew. That is, if you approve, Master."

Blaze frowned. "Uh, 'Master'? I'm not, um, volunteering for anything weird here, am I?"

Kien chuckled. "I don't know how much Max told you about us, Blaze, but there's one more thing you need to know if you want to fly with us. Yuli and I are Jedi Knights on the run: she the apprentice, and I the Master. Still want in?"

Blaze took a deep breath, then nodded resolutely. "Yes, sir."

"Then welcome aboard, First Officer Blaze," Kien said, extending a hand. This time, Blaze shook it calmly and professionally, though Kien felt his hand shaking slightly. Reaching out with the Force, he tried to get a read on their newest member. A little fear, anticipation, nerves, some curiosity. Nothing malicious.

"Thank you, Captain!" Blaze beamed, once again spreading the sides of his mouth wider than any human could. "I won't let you down."

"I hope not. Go and pack whatever you need, kid. We're getting out of here as soon as I've completed pre-flight diagnostics. You can show me the upgrades later."

Blaze saluted ('Stop that,' Kien told him) before hurrying out the door, down the ramp, and back towards his workshop. For his part, Kien returned to the cockpit. Like all the other rooms and corridors he had seen so far, it had been scrubbed sparkling clean, instruments polished and tuned. Taking his seat in the pilot's chair, Kien initiated the startup sequence. The computer probably could have done it, but he wanted to personally ensure everything was in order.

"Master, are you sure about this?" Yuli asked, hovering in the doorway.

"One hundred percent," Kien said. "In fact, I made up my mind to take him on as soon as Max said he trusted him. Max is the best judge of character I know, and his trust isn't easy to come by; makes me wonder what Blaze did to earn it. Took me years."

"I see." It really sounded like she did, which was a load off Kien's mind. The last thing he needed was his crew – much less his Padawan – second-guessing him. Stars, he was thinking like a commanding officer again after assembling the barest semblance of a crew. Whether that was a good or a bad thing remained to be seen.

"From sunrise to sunset," he said aloud, feeling the familiar hum of various systems coming online, "I have come full circle. Opposite skies, but the same sun. From many, two. From two, one. Such is the Force."

"Master?" Yuli sounded puzzled. He didn't blame her. "What was that?"

"A rough translation of a poem I found in the Archives, attributed to the Je'daii, the Order of Force-sensitives that came before our own. If it's real, it's over twenty-five thousand years old. Older than the Republic, older than Jedi or Sith. In a way, they had a primitive manner of thinking, but there is wisdom in it."

"What does it mean?"

"Think about it for a while, my Padawan," Kien said, tossing her a wink. "Who knows, it may become clear sooner than you think."

"And . . . the name of this ship, and your cruiser?" Yuli offered hesitantly.

"Intentional, of course," he said. " _Sunrise_ seemed a fitting choice when I was given the opportunity to rename my capital ship upon assuming command. I never imagined I would be naming its successor so soon, though."

Yuli fell silent, and soon withdrew. She was replaced moments later by Blaze, who practically dived into the cockpit, breathing hard. "We're about to have company, Captain! Clone troopers inbound!"

"What? How is that possible?" Kien cursed and engaged the sublight engines, lifting the _Sunset_ off the ground and angling her upwards.

"I have sensors set up at nearby intersections. They must have traced your ship from when you docked earlier this week. They'll be here any-"

With a tell-tale screeching, half a dozen speeder bikes swerved around the corner of the workshop, each bearing two white-armoured clones. Upon catching sight of the _Sunset_ , they opened fire with blasters, but Kien pulled her upwards, rocketing towards space.

"That was too close," said Blaze, sitting in the co-pilot's seat and checking the instruments.

"I fear it's not over," Kien said grimly, sensing the slightest tremor in the Force. "Where there's smoke, there's fire."

"You're right, dammit," Blaze said. "Our scopes are picking up a _Venator_ -class Star Destroyer in planetary orbit."

Peering out of the front viewport, Kien saw the familiar profile of the wedge-shaped capital ship in the distance. He pulled the _Sunset_ into a hover in the lower atmosphere, keenly aware that the noose was tightening around his neck. "Think we can outrun them?"

Blaze punched some buttons. "There's a jump point on the other side of the planet, sir," he began, "but it doesn't lead much anywhere. Only a few systems that way, which would make it easier for them to track us down."

"Not ideal, but it might be our only option. Think they'll pursue?" It was a rhetorical question. Kien knew better than anyone that the Republic – or rather, the Empire – would not risk letting two Jedi slip through their fingers. The sheer scale of their current operation would have been the only thing preventing them from instituting a full planetary blockade of Takshi.

Slewing the _Sunset_ around, Kien blasted towards the coordinates Blaze indicated, lifting clear of the atmosphere and zooming into the shadowed side of the planet. "Keep an eye on that cruiser," he ordered. "I want to know if it so much as looks at us funny."

"Oh, it's doing more than that, sir," Blaze said, tapping his readout. "They've adjusted vector to follow us. They'll be in bombardment range in thirty seconds."

"Fantastic."

Yuli poked her head into the cockpit again. "Bad news?"

"We've been sprung. Strap yourself in, Blue." Kien pushed the _Sunset_ 's engines as hard as he felt comfortable with – it would take some time to get used to the craft's limitations entirely, time he might not have if the pursuing Imperials had their way."

"You know, sir, since they're following us now . . ." Blaze said hesitantly.

"You got an idea?"

"We could go all the way around the planet and make the jump to hyperspace from where that Star Destroyer was holding position," he said. "That's the primary jump point out of the system, and it would let us jump damn near anywhere in the Core."

"Do you really think we can make it? They'll be in range long before that."

"Only one way to-" Blaze started to say, but he was interrupted by a shrieking proximity sensor. A split second later, the _Sunset_ lurched as a turbolaser clipped its rear.

"You're fucking kidding me," Kien said, swinging into an evasive manoeuvre. As he banked, the Star Destroyer came into view, blotting out the starscape. A wing of ARCs peeled out from the main hangar and zoomed towards the _Sunset_. "They _micro-jumped_?"

"You can do that?" Blaze said in disbelief. "I didn't think it was possible!"

"It's damn hard and really risky. No time for a lecture now, though – get on the guns! This is about to get bumpy."

As Blaze rushed from the cockpit, Kien continued to fly by the seat of his pants, mind whirling. Where could he go? He couldn't outrun the cruiser, and the fighters were bearing down. The ARCs found their range, strafing and pummelling the _Sunset_ with laser fire. The shields wavered, but held. He would have to do something fast. Centring himself, Kien let the Force flow through him. Everything became sharper. Time seemed to slow down – no, that wasn't it. He was just reacting faster. He hurled the _Sunset_ into a steep turn, cutting between the oncoming fighters and heading straight for their capital ship.

"Captain! What the hell are you doing?" Blaze's voice came over the intercom as the rear guns began firing, causing the ARCs to scatter momentarily. "We can't take that thing on!"

"Believe me, I know," Kien said. "Until a week ago, I flew one of these things."

"Then you know we're screwed! If the lasers don't do us in, the tractor beam will."

"Don't worry, I have an idea. You wanted to go back to that main jump point, so that's exactly what I'm doing."

"Yeah! Round the planet, not straight through the fucking Star Destroyer!"

Kien ignored him. "Yuli, sit down. I want you on the main guns."

She complied, but looked shaken. "Master, I don't know if I can do this."

"Calm yourself and let the Force guide you. Besides, you're not even aiming at a moving target. Listen – the _Venator_ -class has a design flaw we can take advantage of." He winced, slaloming out of the way of an incoming salvo. "All of the space around a Star Destroyer is covered by at least two tractor beams, meaning that if one fails, there's always a backup. The only exception is directly underneath."

"Like, right down the middle?" Yuli paled.

"Yep," Kien agreed cheerfully.

"Where all the ventral cannons are?"

"You got it. Nobody would be crazy enough to fly straight underneath a fully armed Star Destroyer – not unless they have Jedi reflexes."

"And the tractor beam?"

"That's where you come in. You know what it looks like? About halfway down the belly, looks kind of like a turbolaser but with a spherical protrusion on the barrel. The ventral housing is externally mounted to maximise the range, which means it's outside the shields, so you should be able to disable it reasonably easy with the main lasers."

"Wonderful." Yuli grasped the triggers hesitantly.

"And of course, anything else you can blow up is only going to help. I'd do it, but flying –" he grunted, ducking below another barrage before returning to the level – "is going to take all my concentration."

With an almost audible _whoomph_ , the _Sunset_ passed under the Star Destroyer's bow, hugging the hull as closely as possible. Allowing his connection to the Force to wax strongly, he pushed the _Sunset_ 's thrusters to the limit, jinking left and right between laser blasts that filled his vision. Occasionally, one clipped them, but the shields held. Everything was chaos. ARCs behind, turbolasers ahead. As he passed the first battery, it swivelled and continued to barrage them. He couldn't see the lasers, but he trusted in the Force as the storm continued to assail them from all sides. Ducking and diving, he weaved between the more dangerous blasts, letting weaker or angled shots clip the _Sunset_ to facilitate movement.

"Here comes the tractor beam, Yuli," he said through gritted teeth. "Dead ahead, take it out!"

* * *

Gripping the triggers so hard her hands shook, Yuli fired off a salvo, lasers peppering the Star Destroyer's underbelly. The shaking of the _Sunset_ made it hard to aim, even though she was firing at a stationary target. One of her shots clipped the tractor beam's housing, but the damage looked minimal. Holding her breath, she lined up her shots again and fired a second time.

This time, she found her mark. As if guided by the Force itself, the _Sunset_ 's orange bolts slammed into the tractor beam, causing a roiling explosion.

Kien whooped and blasted the ship through the fireball. "Good shot, Blue! We'll make a marksman of you yet!"

As they passed the majority of the guns, the way ahead became clear. Bursts of turbolaser fire still streaked through space behind them, but Kien seemed to be managing to evade them. Yuli could hear Blaze's guns screaming behind her, keeping the fighters at bay.

"Computer," Kien said tersely, rolling out of the way of yet another massive salvo, "calculate hyperdrive coordinates from Takshi's primary jump point. Set course for Hutt space."

"Coordinates locked," the computer said cheerily, as if completely oblivious to the chaos around them. "Please proceed to the jump point."

Suddenly, they were out from underneath the Star Destroyer. Space opened up before them once again, no longer dominated by the oppressive Imperial cruiser. Yuli gripped the arms of her seat tightly as Kien sent them into another improbable manoeuvre, blasting towards the jump point that the cruiser had occupied minutes before. The Imperial ship's rear guns still sought them, but Kien was quick and boosted by Jedi reflexes. Only a few shots landed, dissipating on the rapidly degenerating shields. The proximity sensor bleeped warningly.

"Blaze!" Kien shouted into the comm. "Finished off those fighters yet?"

"What, you want me to shoot them _all_ down?" their new companion's voice echoed back, strained and distracted. Laser fire still echoed behind them, a fierce gun battle raging out of sight.

"If possible. How many left?"

"Just three. There's another wing inbound, but they're some way off. How's that jump coming?"

"Almost there, Blaze. Is the cruiser coming about?"

"Yes, sir. She probably won't make it in time, though."

"Good." Kien gritted his teeth and leaned forward at the controls, as if willing the craft to go faster simply by pushing with it.

"Jumping in three seconds," the computer said. "Aligning to escape vector. Two. One."

The hyperdrive kicked in with a crackling roar, causing the stars to melt away into a familiar vista of white-blue lines. Kien fell back in his seat with a sigh, stretching his arms above his head.

Yuli sighed as well, then sucked in air, feeling dizzy. She hadn't realised she'd been holding her breath. "Hutt space?" she exclaimed. "Are you crazy?"

Kien flashed her a grin. "Where better to disappear from civilised society? We'll use Nar Shaddaa as a staging point."

"I don't like it, Master. The Hutts are vile, lawless creatures with no loyalty to anybody but their own kind. They'd likely turn us over to the Empire for a reward."

"Which is why we're not going to throw ourselves on their mercy," Kien explained patiently. "There are millions of beings on Nar Shaddaa, and while the Hutts are certainly a dominant presence, we don't have to concern ourselves with them. I have contacts on the moon that can set us up with some work, send us on our way to the Outer Rim."

"Is there anywhere you _don't_ have suspicious friends, Master?" Yuli asked, slightly exasperated. Her Master certainly seemed to have led an interesting life in the past.

"Oh, I'm sure there's a world or two where I don't know anybody," he said flippantly as Blaze re-entered the cockpit. "Good shooting, flyboy."

"And some damn fine flying yourself," Blaze said, perching on the lip of the cockpit door. "I thought we were dead a dozen times over, but somehow we're not."

"Jedi reflexes help," Kien admitted, "though it's been some time since I used them to pilot a starship."

"Well, I've got to be honest. I didn't think you'd make it, Captain. But you did and we're on our way. Now if I can be excused, I think I need to sleep. How long have we got in hyperspace?"

Kien glanced at the nav computer. "Five hours, give or take. You should get some rest too, Yuli. I want everyone on their toes on Nar Shaddaa."

Rather than retiring to a bunk, however, Yuli stayed in her seat, observing her Master as the flowing blue light of hyperspace rippled faintly across his broad, angular face. His green eyes appeared to take on the colour of an ocean as he stared silently out of the front viewport, fixed on some distant point she could not reach. At length, he turned to her, raising an eyebrow. "I sense there is something you want to ask me, Padawan."

"Yes," she said quietly. "I've been wondering about your past, Master. Do you . . . do you think you could start telling me your story?"

Kien appeared to consider it for a moment. "What makes you so eager, my apprentice? We have a long time ahead of us."

"Do we? Do we really, Master? I don't know about you, but I grow less sure of that every day. Just now, I honestly didn't know if I was going to survive for another five minutes!"

"Fair point," Kien conceded. He swivelled his chair to look directly at her, sending one side of his face into darkness as the glow of hyperspace played across the other. "Do you really want to hear me out? It's a . . . difficult story. Not everything will be impressive. In fact, a lot of it will make you question me. Judge me. I've made some unhappy choices in my life, and a lot of mistakes. Do you think you can handle that? Will you still be able to look at me the same way?"

 _Moons, he's scared. Terrified!_ Yuli realised, seeing the pleading look in her Master's eyes. Just how bad could this story be? Steeling herself, she nodded firmly. "I can't trust you fully unless I know why you are the way you are, Master," she said, admitting it to herself as much as to Kien. "You're a powerful Jedi, but I'm still finding it hard to come to terms with your . . . eccentricities. I feel like if I know where you came from, who shaped you, what trials you've faced, I could begin to understand."

Her Master nodded. He still didn't seem happy at being asked, but he looked . . . satisfied. He had surely known she would ask again sooner or later, and this time her reasoning was sound. "Well," he said eventually. "There may still be secrets I cannot tell you, but this is the prerogative of a Master. I will be as honest with you as I can."

Yuli smiled, settling back into her chair as she waited for him to begin.


	7. Recollection 1

_Author Notes: And here we see the fruits of a childhood obsession with the_ Jedi Apprentice _and_ Jedi Quest _series of books. I briefly toyed with the idea of publishing Thomas Kien's origin story as a separate fic, and it certainly would have stood by itself, but_ this _story would have suffered for its exclusion. So bear with me, and please try not to be too upset about the perspective shift. I normally avoid switching between 1st and 3rd person for obvious reasons, but it felt appropriate here and will be clearly delineated from the rest of the story. Thanks for reading as always!_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven  
34 BBY  
Recollection 1  
Coruscant**

* * *

Seventeen was a strange age, I thought at the time. My circle of friends – the other initiates I had grown up with at the Temple had suddenly shrunk as the deadline for being accepted as a Padawan learner passed. I was neither boy nor man, fifteen years ago. No longer a 'potential', I had well and truly started down the path to Knighthood – yet at the same time, that future was still a long way off. Caught in between every way I turned, I felt more than a little lost, a fact I had confided in my Master, Coreth. An archivist, primarily, Coreth had surprised the Council when he stated his desire for an apprentice, but his wisdom, experience and three successfully trained Padawans in his younger years had made it difficult to turn him down. As a quiet, serious youngling who had always found greater peace in a history book than any meditation, I was a sensible match for the venerable Togruta.

In the year and a half since I had become Master Coreth's apprentice, I had learned at a steady pace. From crafting my first lightsaber – green-bladed, utilitarian, and rarely drawn – to spending hours wandering the stacks of the Jedi Archives, it was a serene existence, truly in keeping with what I felt to be the essence of the Jedi Code: finding peace through wisdom.

Today, though, I had been summoned before one of the other Jedi Masters. I had always admired Grand Master Yoda of the High Council, the diminutive green creature of uncertain origin whose wisdom and great age were both known to be extraordinary, even among the traditionally sage and long-lived Jedi. What he could want was a mystery to me, though this was no great cause for concern. The Jedi Council, and Yoda especially, worked in mysterious ways. My experience with Masters other than my own – and, in truth, with other Jedi in general – was limited, so I decided to save my efforts instead of wasting time speculating.

The door to Master Yoda's meditation chamber stood ajar, as clear an invitation as I was going to get. Checking one last time to make sure my scratchy brown apprentice's tunic was in order, I stepped inside. The room was dim, draped in darkness but for a dappled spray of afternoon sunlight, leaking in through a nearly-closed blind. Master Yoda sat cross-legged on a cushion, eyes closed. To one side, my own Master knelt in a meditative pose.

"I'm sorry, Masters," I said, bowing guiltily. "I didn't realise I was keeping you waiting."

"Worry not, young one," Yoda said, opening his eyes and smiling. "You are here just when you needed to be." His voice was gruff and strangely-pitched, his tone climbing and falling gently at the oddest points. It was somehow calming.

"Thank you, Master." I remained standing until indicated to sit, which I did cautiously, crossing my legs on the cool floor.

"Worry for your education, your Master does," Yoda began. "What think you of this?"

I glanced sideways at Coreth, who inclined his head by the slightest fraction, his montrals bobbing gently.

"I think he need not worry, Master Yoda," I said honestly. "Master Coreth is an excellent teacher, and I consider myself lucky to be learning from him."

Yoda nodded in satisfaction. "Good, good. Genuine, this praise is. What think you, Master Coreth? Still convinced the boy needs harsher testing, are you?"

Coreth nodded again. "I, too, consider myself lucky to have him. Thomas listens well, and displays talent as an archivist. In this, I have full confidence. However, the fact remains that the work of a Jedi will always be more than simply researching. Even if he does not follow the path of a Jedi peacekeeper, I believe that experiencing a mission or two offworld can only be good for him."

Yoda turned to regard me, a twinkle in his ancient eye. Some of the other apprentices whispered that the Grand Master was over eight hundred years old. Was that possible? "And this, young Padawan? Does it sway your mind?"

Genuinely considering what my Master had said, I chose my words carefully. "Far be it from me to suggest my education has been lacking, but I do see the wisdom in what Master Coreth says. Though I haven't exactly been hurting for the lack of them, I would consider it a great opportunity for learning if I were to be assigned to a field mission."

Yoda nodded. "Agree with you, your Master and I do. A suitable mission to test your skills, the Council has found. To the Takshi system, you both will go."

"Thank you, Master," I said, bowing my head.

"The Jedi Master originally assigned to this mission requested another team be sent," Coreth said. "She and her Padawan will fill us in further when we join them on Takshi Prime."

"Go," Yoda said, gesturing. "Prepare. Meditate. A great step forward this is for you, young Padawan. It does not do to be ill-prepared in times such as this."

I rose, bowing once more, and retreated.

* * *

Three days later, I found myself standing outside the spaceport in Metra, mouth agape. I had seen the hustle and bustle of Coruscant many times throughout my training, but this world was completely different. The spaceport was located at the top of a ridge, from which the rest of the city flowed like a great red carpet, a magnificently undulating tapestry that spread down the slope and spilled out into the surrounding countryside. And beyond it . . . wilderness! Though roads cut through the distant mantle of green, and patchwork squares of farmland decorated the spaces between them, the world that stretched to the horizon had a wildness to it that clashed violently with everything I thought I knew, having grown up on the ecumenopolis that was Coruscant.

Coreth, still fully mobile despite his advanced years and tendency for cloistered study, stood beside me, looking no more out of place than any of the hundreds of gaily-dressed locals that streamed past. A majority seemed to be humans, but there was no shortage of aliens walking among them.

"It's hot," I commented. It was, too. The planet was sweltering then, just as it always would be when I returned. It was something I'd have to get used to over the next ten years or so.

"That it is," Coreth agreed, mopping his hairless red brow with a handkerchief. "I admit I am awaiting our compatriots with more than a little impatience."

"You get used to the heat soon enough," a voice piped up behind us. I turned to look for the source, pretending not to be taken aback by the newcomer. A young Zabrak stood in the shadow of the spaceport wall, looking mildly pleased with himself for having sneaked up behind us successfully. Brown-skinned and bearing vestigial horns on his hairless crown, Davthar had been a friend of mine at the Temple until we had been selected for training by Masters who trod different paths.

"Davthar!" I exclaimed. "Stars, man, I had no idea it was you out here. Where's your Master?"

The Zabrak bowed to Coreth, gracing me with a friendly nod. "Master Snell is currently tied up at the Senate building," Davthar said, gesturing to the tall, elegant spire that stood apart from the spaceport atop the ridge. "She sent me to guide you to her and brief you on the situation."

"Has it developed since our last correspondence?" Coreth asked as he began walking towards the spire. I hurried to catch up.

"Unfortunately, yes." Davthar grimaced, falling in step on Coreth's other side. "Senator Jan's efforts to block the constitutional amendment have been falling on deaf ears."

"It looks to go ahead soon, then?" I asked, casting my mind back to the datapads I had scanned en route to Takshi. Ranvus Jan was a man of integrity who had served as the Takshian King's Prime Minister for the maximum term of sixteen years before being assigned to represent the system in the Republic Senate. A significant majority within the planetary government, however, had recently begun to call for the ousting of the monarchy. Normally, there would be no need for the Jedi – or indeed, the Republic – to do more than observe quietly, and that was ostensibly all we were there to do. Constitutional monarchies were a reasonably rare form of government these days, and it would be fair to call them a dying breed. Many royal dynasties had faded peacefully out of existence, and Takshi's history as a Core world suggested that it might go down the same path.

"Yes. Master Snell's meetings with the King have indicated that he is willing to step down peacefully if the Assembly demands, which is certainly welcome news. On the surface, all seems to be in order. A peaceful, democratic transfer of power, an ideal exemplar of Republic political process."

"But you disagree," Coreth noted. It was not a question.

"My Master senses a disturbance in the Force," Davthar said, directing us around a corner as we approached the Assembly building. "She is not certain what, but there is a slim possibility that there is something more sinister to this whole affair. I am not as attuned to the Force as she, so I do not sense what she speaks of, but my own observations have led me to the same conclusion. The call for abdication came very suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere. Just look around us. Takshi is prospering. The people are happy. Why would they call for an upheaval? No, the movement seems purely political. I would almost call it a blatant grab for power, were I a little more cynical."

"And the loyalist faction in the Assembly?" I prompted.

"Other than Jan, their leadership has dissipated. He remains the sole influential voice speaking out against the abdication, but his opponents dismiss him as biased, his views coloured by his years directly serving with the King, who considers him a personal friend. I must admit they are right, though it does not make his arguments any less worthwhile."

Coreth was silent as we drew close to the base of the Assembly building, seemingly mulling over the complex political situation. For my part, I was excited despite myself. This was a history book come to life. No longer forced to spend my life in the Archives – which I had not once seen as anything other than a boon – I would now be witness to history being made first-hand. I felt a sudden rush of appreciation for Master Coreth, who shuffled inside the Assembly's atrium, fanning himself with one hand. He was no diplomat, no peacekeeper, but he had left his beloved Archives – likely for the first time in decades – for my sake.

The atrium was blissfully cool. I wiped away the sheen of sweat that had gathered on my forehead after such a short jaunt under the Takshian sun, and glanced around. The enormous room seemed to be donut-shaped, peeling away in both directions around the edge of the circular building.

"The Assembly chamber itself occupies the third and fourth floors," Davthar provided, noticing my gaze drifting to the arch-like doors that pierced the central cylinder at regular intervals. "The bottom two floors are administrative and public offices, and the senators' offices are on the higher levels."

"I don't suppose there's a lift?" I asked, noticing a nearby staircase that looked to spiral around the outer wall of the building.

"Only for the senators," Davthar laughed. "Don't worry. Jan's office is only on the fifth floor." He led us towards the stairwell, which looked to be fashioned of the same red, clay-like material as the rest of the building – and indeed, the city. Two armed guards blocked their path briefly, but stepped aside as they seemed to recognise Davthar. They wore a simple white uniform, light and trimmed with gold cord. It didn't look very combat-worthy in my opinion, but they were probably mostly there for show in the first place.

The stairwell was cool and dim, lit by slit-like external windows. At each landing, another guard stopped us to identify Davthar and check that his guests were allowed before waving us through. On the final flight, I drew close to Davthar – leaving the ancient Coreth a few stairs behind – and whispered, "This is giving me the creeps. What are they so afraid of?"

Davthar shrugged. "Assassins? Takshi is a peaceful world, but there will always be dissidents, some of them inevitably violent. If anyone could walk into the Assembly, the senators' lives would be constantly at risk."

I fell silent, chewing over the possibility. It made sense, now Davthar said it. Coruscant too appeared peaceful on the surface, and Republic senators were guarded fiercely. At the fifth landing, Davthar led us out of the stairwell – by the position of the sun shining through the gaps in the walls, I guessed we had come about a third of the way around the outside – and down a brief series of corridors. I memorised the layout as best I could. Takshi was not Coruscant; its architecture was completely different both in design and function.

The hallway ended abruptly in a large door, bearing a plaque which read 'Galactic Sen. Ranvus Jan'. Two guards stood sharply at attention on either side. These ones wore uniforms of dark blue, though trimmed with the same gold as the others. As we approached, one of them stepped forward, a tall young woman with shocking red hair pulled back into a tight braid. "Padawan Davthar," she said, nodding stiffly to him before turning to us. "You must be Master Coreth and Padawan . . ."

"Thomas," I supplied.

"Thomas. Senator Jan is expecting you both, though he and Master Snell have requested the Padawans wait out here for the moment."

"Then I should not keep them waiting." The venerable Togruta stepped forward, and the redheaded guard pulled the door open.

"Master Coreth of the Jedi Order," she announced formally, before ushering him inside and closing the door behind him. She turned back to face us. "Please wait here until your presence is required."

"Of course," I said, letting my eyes rove over her from head to toe. It hadn't been obvious at first, but this woman's uniform was reinforced with some kind of thin, stiff material. On one hip she carried a blaster, and the other bore a sword of some kind, These guards were significantly more combat-ready than the ones on the stairwell. Senator Jan, at least, felt he would need protecting.

"Corporal Mar Lask here is a member of the Senatorial Guard," Davthar said, once again displaying an uncanny ability to read what I was thinking. "The silent one over there is Karreth. He doesn't say much, but he's a good shot."

I raised an eyebrow. "You've seen them in action, then?" It felt a little odd to be talking about the two young guards as if they weren't present, but Davthar just smiled knowingly.

"Actually, my friend, it's been nothing _but_ action since we arrived," he said, lowering his voice. "You really think we need two Master-Padawan teams to oversee a peaceful abdication? No, there's more to this than meets the eye. Mar, Karreth and I have been investigating behind the scenes while Master Snell works publicly with Senator Jan."

"That's enough, Davthar," Mar hissed. "Anybody could hear you out here!"

Thankfully, we were spared from the corporal's wrath by the door creaking open once again. "Come in, all four of you. Senator Jan would like to speak with you now."

Davthar and I entered the room, Mar and Karreth exchanging a dubious glance at being asked to abandon their post. They followed us in after a second anyway, closing the door behind them.

Master Jayn Snell stood to one side, hands clasped behind her back. A Zabrak, like her apprentice, her fierce demeanour and legendary saber skills made her a familiar figure in Temple mythology. Other than the two Masters, the only person in the room was a tall, sandy-haired human who stood behind a plain, solid wooden desk. The Senator, Jan. His hair, though still light, was greying at the temples, and his face bore noticeable, though shallow lines. His posture indicated a man who was used to being obeyed, yet it was not an oppressive presence that radiated from him. Rather, it was one of quiet, assured power, not unlike a Jedi. He didn't resonate with the Force, though, so my fledgling crackpot theory was shot down before it left the ground.

He smiled tightly as we entered, the stress of his situation clearly weighing on him. "You must be the second apprentice I was advised of. I apologise that I cannot receive you in more favourable circumstances, as I have always considered myself a friend to your Order, and having four Jedi dispatched to aid my people is a great honour." His words were smooth, but they didn't feel like flattery.

I bowed politely. "Padawan Thomas Kien," I introduced myself. "The honour is all mine, Senator. I had heard little of your system before being dispatched here, but the more I hear the more intrigued I become."

"Oh?" The Senator regarded me coolly, his face betraying little. "What in particular has caught your interest, young one?"

I froze momentarily. That was a leading question if I'd ever heard one. Should I play it safe? No, I realised. I was being tested. The mission had begun the moment we landed on Takshi. I gulped and went for broke. "Given the nature of the current debate, Senator, I thought it wise to begin my research on the history of the Takshian kings. Checking legislative records from the last two centuries made it apparent that a concerted movement to strip the monarchy of its administrative powers began nearly a hundred and fifty years ago. The bills introduced were varied, often tacked on to other pieces of legislature or passed piecemeal in bulk declarations. Individually, none of these moves seemed dangerous. They came from all corners of the political spectrum as well, which would surely help to deflect concerns. Taken from a sufficiently distant point of view, however, it becomes clear that there has been a prolonged and deliberate effort to devalue and disempower the monarchy." I stopped to breathe, realising with a slight jolt that I had let myself ramble. I felt a hot flush rise to my cheeks, but pushed it down and looked the Senator in the eyes.

I kept one thing to myself: the name of Jan had cropped up repeatedly in my research, always opposed to the anti-monarchy legislature. Loyalism ran in the family, it seemed.

Jan looked at me with frank surprise, then turned to Coreth, who had moved to stand quietly beside Snell. "It seems the Jedi Council were not mistaken in this assignment, Master Jedi. In a night's reading, he discovered what took his counterpart weeks to piece together, and what the general populace does not seem to have yet realised."

I felt a brief flash of pride, though it was tempered by the fact that Jan seemed to prefer talking _about_ me rather than to me. I remained silent, glancing at Davthar for reassurance that this was normal behaviour for the Senator, but he was giving me a strange look. I couldn't place it at the time, but it unnerved me somewhat.

"I believe my Padawan will be a great asset to your investigation, Master Snell," Coreth was saying. "Although I did not expect to thrust him into such a dangerous situation so soon."

"Dangerous?" I blurted out, before catching myself and giving a quick nod of apology.

"Yes," Jan said, his voice crisp and terse. "The reason I requested another Jedi mediator – indeed, the reason I requested Master Snell's presence in the first place – is that local law enforcement have of late been tested by a group of radical criminals who have made no secret of their violently anti-monarchist stance. On the surface, their anarchist goals set them at odds with the republican faction in the Assembly, but I have my suspicions that they are secretly connected. Two of my young aides, along with your Padawan friend, have been tasked with investigating this rebel cell in search of evidence linking the two groups. You will join them while your Masters aid me in stalling the political nonsense that threatens our government."

There were several things wrong with that notion, but I decided to let them lie for the moment. "With my Master's permission," I said instead, "I will be glad to help in any way I can."

"Good," Jan said, as if he had expected nothing less. "Mar, Karreth, your relief should be here momentarily. Take Davthar and your new accomplice and continue your investigation. Report to me as soon as you find anything."

I shivered as Mar saluted and led us out of the office. _Accomplice_. I didn't like the sound of that. Glancing back at Master Coreth as I followed the two blue-suited guards, I saw him nod almost imperceptibly. I returned the gesture, feeling slightly vindicated. _Play along_ , he seemed to be saying. Glad I was not the only one with misgivings, I hurried to catch up with the others, passing another pair of guards who took up posts outside the door as I closed it behind us.

Once we were out of earshot, Davthar rounded on me. "Way to make me look dumb, Kien," he hissed.

I blinked. The slight grin on his face told me he was joking, but you could never be sure with a Zabrak. "It's not my fault you can't read," I shot back. "You can't say I made you look dumb if it's true."

Davthar glared at me for another moment, then clapped me on the shoulder with a bark of laughter. "Stars, you haven't changed," he said. "I thought old pointy-head back there might have bored the fight out of you, but it looks like I needn't worry. What have you been doing for the last year, though? I haven't seen you around the Temple at all!"

I cocked an eyebrow. "When was the last time you visited the Archives?"

"Uh..." Davthar genuinely looked as if he was struggling to remember.

Thankfully, he was spared by the redheaded guard – Mar – stepping between us and shooting an accusatory glance at each of us. "You two can catch up later. We have work to do. You, Kien."

"Thomas," I corrected her habitually. Having a surname was a strange thing for Jedi, having been separated at a young age from families we never knew. It would take me some years before the family name I had been born with really felt like my own.

Mar tilted her head slightly, regarding me through critically narrowed eyes. "Thomas," she said eventually. "You're smart. We can use that. How are you in a fight?"

"Uh..." I winced. This was my first mission off Coruscant, after all. I had trained in saber techniques with the other initiates, and Master Coreth had encouraged me to continue practicing them, but I was no warrior. "Passable?" I ventured.

Davthar slipped around and poked me in the side of the head, catching me off guard. "This guy's a real bookworm, Mar," he said, dancing away from my half-hearted retaliatory swipe. Again, I couldn't be sure how much of his teasing, if any, was founded on malice. "He could never beat me when we trained together."

"Hey now, 'never' is a strong word," I protested. "I might not be much of a duelist, but I _have_ been trained."

"Right," Mar said, looking less than impressed. "Well, let me fill you in. We've managed to get ourselves 'recruited' by a fringe group of these rebels, and they're meeting tonight with the main body. We'll bring you along as another new recruit. Our goal is to infiltrate the rally, learn whatever we can about their leaders, and identify targets for further investigation. We'll plan our next move from there. Clear?"

I nodded. It wasn't, really, but I got the sense I was just along for the ride anyway.

"Good." Mar turned to Davthar. "Karreth and I are going to head back to our rooms to change. Meet us in half an hour at the usual place."

"Yes, sir!" Davthar threw an elaborate salute, causing the redhead to scowl as she turned on her heel, striding towards a different staircase than the one we had entered through. Karreth nodded to us silently before hurrying after her.

I raised an eyebrow at Davthar for what felt like the tenth time that day. "You really enjoy getting on people's nerves, huh?"

Davthar's grin widened. "Come on, man!" he said. "Mar's so easy to wind up."

"Doesn't mean you have to. Listen, never mind that." Glancing up and down the corridor, I drew him into a quiet alcove. "Doesn't this strike you as weird?"

The Zabrak frowned. "Doesn't what?"

"Senator Jan, the rebel cell, this whole assignment. It's fishy. The Jedi are supposed to be peacekeepers, Davthar. Impartial arbiters! When we're called on to oversee a dispute like this, it's purely for the purpose of ensuring that nothing untoward happens. Worst-case scenario, we might have to act as bodyguards or something. I'm not sure I feel comfortable with being used as a private investigator!"

Davthar thought for a moment. It looked uncomfortable. "I don't see the problem," he declared at last. "Our duty is to maintain peace, and by helping to root out violent rebels, we're doing just that. Protecting the democratic process and all that."

"I can see that," I admitted, "but Senator Jan has a clear agenda. We're meant to be neutral, Dav. If we help him to win a political victory, what are we?"

"We are keepers of the peace," he said insistently. "These rebels are criminals, Thomas. By shutting them down, we help these people and preserve democracy. If they're connected to the movement in the Assembly, we've exposed corruption and saved the planet from an illegal transfer of leadership. If they're not, then hey." He shrugged. "One less band of terrorists to worry about."

"Terrorists?" I said incredulously. Nobody had mentioned terrorism. "And wait, how did 'investigating' turn into 'shutting them down'?"

"They're violent criminals, Thomas. Bandits. They conduct raids on known loyalists, bomb highly visible public symbols of the monarchy, hijack the airwaves to spread propaganda, you name it. The Takshian police are keeping a lid on it as much as possible, but people have died out here. Now come on." He shoved past me, setting off briskly towards the exit. "I've said enough. We're going to be late."

I followed, but slowly. Suddenly even my misgivings were thrown into doubt. What was my role here, after all? Could I justify joining Davthar in his crusade to eliminate the rebels? Nothing was as black and white as I had hoped.


	8. Fulbar and the Lizard King

**Chapter Eight  
1345 (Nal Hutta local time)  
Hyperspace**

* * *

Kien broke off with a cough, taking a swig of water from a canteen. "Yikes," he said. "I haven't talked for that long in years. That'll do for today, I think."

Yuli remained silent for a minute, so he simply waited. He could sense that she was buzzing with questions, so he added his silence to her own, watching the hyperspace lanes zoom by.

"Mar sounds . . . much like I expected," Yuli said eventually, "if a bit less angry."

"She had no cause to hate me back then," Kien said with a shrug. "She was straightforward, loud and brash, and she thought she was better than me, but angry . . . no. I had to earn that."

"I kind of want to know how you managed it, Master," Yuli said, her voice betraying a small measure of guilt at the admission.

"I told you, didn't I? I killed her sister, Yishan."

"There must be more to the story than that," she pressed him.

"Of course there is," he said, "but that is a story for another day. For now, I'm all talked out."

"I understand." She didn't sound too happy about it, but she acquiesced.

Kien glanced at the nav computer. "You've got a couple of hours still. Go get some rest," he recommended.

* * *

Yuli withdrew to the medical bay, which she had unconsciously claimed as her own, and lay down. Sleep would not come, however, replaced instead by burning curiosity. Kien's tale had raised more questions than it answered, and she found she surprised herself with how badly she wanted answers. Where did Mar's sister Yishan come into it? Why had Kien killed her? Surely he wouldn't have done so without good reason.

At least she knew which of the two women in Mar's picture was which, now. Mar was the tall redhead, which meant the shorter one was almost certainly Yishan. Yuli closed her eyes, framing the image once more in her mind's eye. Mar, protective and proud. The older sister? Almost certainly. Yishan had seemed a little less sure of herself in the photograph, though there was strength in her icy blue eyes.

Yuli shivered and rolled over, remembering at the last second to avoid lying on her injured arm. She couldn't know, not without hearing the rest of Kien's story. Speculating about it only compounded her questions, adding to her confusion. She would have to sit her Master down sometime soon to hear the rest of the story, though she had the feeling it would take many more sessions to tell it in full. In a way, that was exciting too. Stories of better times had always excited her; as a youngling, she had enjoyed tales of the Old Republic in its prime, the millennia where the Jedi had gone from strength to strength, tens of thousands of Knights spread throughout the galaxy, defending it from Sith armies, Mandalorians, and untold other threats.

Yet always, there had been darkness. She was realising that now, only in hindsight. For every selfless act of good, there was an evil. Every era of peace and prosperity eventually fell to war. The Sith Wars, the Great Hyperspace War, the Cold War . . . the galaxy as she knew it had been forged in the crucible of bloodshed, and she was starting to realise that its violent past had not yet stilled. The Clone War had seemed enough of a threat to the stability of the Republic from her point of view, but now that was over. The Separatist leaders had been killed, and their worlds enveloped back into the newly formed Empire. From a certain point of view, that was probably a good thing. The Empire had brought peace to the galaxy, at the cost of the entire Jedi Order.

Kien was probably right, she reflected. Only the Sith, those whispering terrors that lived in the darkest corners of history, could have orchestrated such a complete and utter defeat. Many had thought them dead and gone, but they had lived on in folk tales and nightmares. Beings of ultimate darkness and impossible power shrouded in mystery, the Sith were ideal villains. Reports of their existence had been far and few between, and even the Jedi were convinced they had died out. _How long will it take_ , she thought with a shiver, _before the Jedi are considered the stuff of myth and legend too?_

In one fell swoop, nearly all of the Jedi had been wiped from the face of the galaxy. It was not only the catastrophic loss of life that rattled her, or the fall of the Order as an institution. It was what the Jedi Order had represented – servants of the light, the Jedi had been a beacon for righteousness and justice for thousands of years. Their combined knowledge, experience and history would now be lost. She had watched, aghast, as HoloNet News played amateur footage of the Temple in flames. Shakily captured from a hovering speeder, the video had depicted the ancient complex being devoured by fire, clouds of thick smoke billowing into the Coruscant night as clone troopers stood dotted around the perimeter. The extent of the damage had not been clear, but she could sense that millennia of records, archives and teachings would have been either destroyed or captured by the Sith.

Kien would be taking that loss particularly hard, she realised, in addition to the loss of their fellows. He had spoken fondly of the Archives in a way that few Jedi did. Most considered them respectfully, as a useful tool and a repository of knowledge, but there were a handful who had viewed them in an almost reverential manner, believing that there was more wisdom to be found in those endless stacks of books, scrolls and datapads than in the minds of their Masters. Jocasta Nu, the head Archivist, had been one of them; Kien, it seemed, was another.

By six months into her own formal apprenticeship, Yuli had been itching to get out of the Jedi Temple on a field mission. She had been eager to see the galaxy, anxious to meet its people and explore its endless bounds. She couldn't imagine spending a full year and a half in quiet study and meditation without requesting an assignment offworld.

And now, all she wanted was to go home. She smiled bitterly, letting tears gather unshed in her eyes. How cruel fate was.

* * *

Nar Shaddaa was exactly as filthy as Kien remembered it. After navigating through the smoggy, unholy halo that wreathed the moon, he docked cautiously at one of the thousands of spindly, bristling spires that jutted out from the unseen surface, landing on a platform just barely big enough for the _Sunset_.

"I want you two to stay here for now," he said as he shut down the engines, addressing Yuli and Blaze, who had returned from their bunks as the ship returned to realspace. "I'd rather not escape the Empire just to have my ship stolen from under my nose. Besides, my contact on Nar Shaddaa isn't fond of strangers."

Yuli looked uncertain, but nodded, chewing her bottom lip. Blaze merely saluted.

" _Stop that,_ " Kien told him again with a growl. "I don't know what sort of smuggling operation your father ran, but I'm done being a commanding officer. On my ship, I expect respect and obedience, but not deference."

Leaving the cowed Blaze and concerned Yuli behind, Kien set off through the precarious heights of Nar Shaddaa's Corellian sector. Although under the slimy thumb of the Hutts just like the rest of the system – indeed, this whole chunk of the galaxy – the Corellian sector was largely populated by humans and similar species. Settled and built by the Hutts like the rest of the moon, using the native Evocii as slave labour, it had come to be occupied by a faction of pirates and smugglers from the Core world of Corellia. Over several thousand years, it had changed little. One of the only areas on the Smugglers' Moon that was even remotely welcoming to outsiders, the Corellian sector was home to some of the galaxy's most vibrant nightlife.

Garish neon signs – Aurebesh, High Galactic, and any number of unrecognisable scripts and pictograms – clamoured for Kien's attention as he navigated the twisting streets at truly dizzying heights. Unlike Coruscant, with its rigid, logically ordered levels and strict zoning codes that prevented the layout from becoming too chaotic, Nar Shaddaa had abandoned all semblance of order long ago. Spires jutted at strange angles, roads were constructed haphazardly at all altitudes, and death was never more than one wrong foot away. Being careful to stay away from poorly-marked death traps, Kien made his way through a babbling crowd, aiming for the centre of the Corellian sector.

As he drew closer to the hub of the sub-city, the roads became wider, more level, and better lit. Eventually, he could almost have been fooled into thinking he was back on Coruscant, if it weren't for the luridly dressed natives. A suburb overgrown with casinos, cabarets and all kinds of faux-trendy establishments, this was relatively tame compared to the true depths of Nar Shaddaa. Remembering the one time his travels had taken him down to the lower levels, Kien shuddered. At least here, keeping his mouth shut would protect him from anything worse than an overly affectionate streetwalker. In the bowels of the Smuggler's Moon, horrendous, nightmarish creatures lurked, opposed only by the few sentient beings who were mad enough to live among them.

Focusing on the here and now, Kien slowed his walking pace, taking in the scenery around him. Billboards flashed, crowds milled chaotically in no apparent direction, and the hum of illegally low-flying speeders served as a backdrop. Most of the people here were free, either having escaped a life of servitude to the oppressive Hutts or simply avoiding the rigidity of life in the Republic. Everywhere one looked, though, the hallmarks of the moon's shadowy overlords could be seen – if one knew what to look for. The collars on the dancing girls visible through a fogged-up window, electrically charged for castigation rather than titillation; the hollow-eyed spice addicts haunting grimy alleyways like wraiths of the dark; boarded-up windows on the higher levels of buildings, betraying unsustainably high tenant turnover rates; even the opulence and false grandeur of the beings milling around him betrayed the influence of the Hutt overlords.

Kien wasn't interested in any of them, though. He'd had dealings with the Hutts in the past, and he privately agreed with Yuli: they were not to be trusted if at all possible. Then again, the contact he _had_ come here to seek wasn't exactly a model citizen either. As far as Kien was concerned, Thorssk was the nastiest piece of work to ever walk on two legs. Then again, he had often claimed to be 'pretty damn mild for a Trandoshan', so who knew?

The main problem, Kien mused, would be finding him. It had been nearly seven years since he had visited this stinking hellhole – ample time for any semi-competent underworld thug to pack up his entire life and relocate to another system on the other side of the galaxy. Twice. He was banking on the fact that Thorssk had grown fat and lazy with age, preferring to rest on his laurels while his commissioned bounty hunters, smugglers and mercenaries continued to expand his empire.

Strictly small-time compared to the Hutt crime lords, Thorssk was nonetheless a significant figure on Nar Shaddaa, and the only one Kien could trust even a little. With luck and a little flattery, he could hopefully be persuaded to take them on as contractors. Dealing with the notoriously violent Trandoshan was always a risky venture, but the lightness of his money pouch reminded Kien that he had little choice.

So it was that he stood here, in front of one of the largest casino and nightclub complexes in the mid-level Corellian sector, the _Saurin Pride_. Taking a deep breath, Kien steeled himself and stepped inside.

The bouncers eyed him but let him pass the anteroom, pushing through a swing door into the complex proper. The heat hit him first, followed a split second later by the regrettably familiar aroma of a poorly-ventilated room filled by sweaty, drunken beings, mixed with the strange chemicals they pumped through the smoke machines. Kien wrinkled his nose as he peered through the dark, smoky room. Though he couldn't see the appeal himself, the residents of Nar Shaddaa seemed to know how to party. Coloured lasers slashed through the darkness, jumping and bouncing in time with the bass-heavy music. Dancers – both guests and employees of the _Pride_ – undulated and writhed in a trance-like state that only became more profoundly disturbing the longer Kien tried to puzzle it out. Skirting the crowd, he made his way towards the less populated section of the building, scanning the faces that he passed. It was easy to tell Thorssk's men from the other locals, no matter how casually they tried to blend in. Scattered around the tables, they all carried concealed weapons, betrayed by unnatural bulges in too-heavy jackets and military-grade pants. Most of all, though, the look in their eyes gave them away. They were distant, uninterested in their surroundings unless somebody looked like they wanted trouble. Combined with their Force signature, Kien was easily able to pick out the Trandoshan's henchmen.

He singled out one, a muscular, Rutian Twi'lek with a very prominent brow who stood alone by a side door, arms folded across his chest. His eyes snapped onto Kien as he approached, but he did not speak.

"I'd like to meet the Lizard King," Kien said quietly once he was within earshot.

The Twi'lek grunted. "He don't see tourists."

"No tourist," Kien promised. "I'm an old friend. Tell him, if you would, that Fulbar is here." Without waiting for an answer, he stepped away, resuming his cycle around the outskirts of the dancefloor.

Soon enough, he came across what he was looking for – a red-carpeted stairway leading to the upper level. He felt several pairs of eyes on him as he began to climb, having now drawn attention by approaching Thorssk's lieutenant. Out of the corner of his eye, Kien saw the Twi'lek slip out the door.

Reaching the second floor with a wry smile, Kien let himself relax a little. The music was quieter here, and the expansive room was filled with lively, drunken chatter instead, as the residents of Nar Shaddaa gambled their life savings away. Instead of approaching one of the numerous card or dice tables, though, he wove between them, heading for the bar at the far end of the room. He didn't have enough credits to risk losing any right now, though he did enjoy a good game of chance when he had the opportunity.

Ordering a drink, he sat and waited, quietly observing the room. It had been renovated since his last visit, now a far cry from the grungy den of vice that it had been. It was still a den of vice, of course, but my, weren't those carpets lovely.

A discreet tap on his shoulder caught him by surprise. He had sensed the scantily-clad barmaid passing behind him, of course, refilling drinks, taking orders and dispatching trays of dangerous-looking concoctions to various tables. What he hadn't expected was for her to lean over and whisper in his ear, "Thorssk is waiting for you. Green door, then second on the left."

He flashed her a smile, trying not to reveal his surprise. "Thanks," he said, then drained his drink and handed her the glass, along with a small pile of credits. "Keep the change." Wandering nonchalantly through the room, he made his way toward the door she had indicated. Opening it, he passed through casually. Closing the door behind him, he found himself in an opulent hallway lined with doors. Private suites, it seemed. He shuddered to think what kinds of shady 'business' went on in there.

Passing a door marked '6401', he instead knocked at 6402. The door yawned open immediately, giving him a glimpse of an elaborately furnished sitting room before he was yanked inside, finding himself staring down three blaster barrels.

"Whoa!" he cried, raising his hands in the universal gesture of peace. "Relax, fellas!" The three guns aimed at him did not waver, though the armoured mercenaries glanced back at the comfortable chair in the middle of the room, awaiting orders.

"Fulbar, _jahumba_! It is you!" Thorssk grinned toothily as he waved his guards down. They lowered their weapons and stepped back to the corners of the room, allowing Kien to proceed.

"You sure know how to make a guy feel welcome," Kien grumbled as he took a seat opposite the scaly lizardman.

"It's just business," Thorssk hissed, his long tongue flickering as he blinked his beady red eyes at Kien. "A man shows up uninvited to my estate, claiming to be someone I haven't seen for seven years . . . I gotta be careful, no? Could be a scam, could be an assassin . . ."

"I get it," Kien admitted. He gestured at their luxurious surroundings. Candles burned in elaborate holders, and the lush brown carpet was littered with expensive-looking furniture. "Business is booming as usual, I see?"

Thorssk chuckled. "Yesss. The Hutts are generous benefactors, so long as I don't tread on any, hmm, tailsss. But never mind me. It is a quiet life I enjoy now, but a busy one, and it treats me well. What can I do for you, Fulbar?"

"I need your help, Thorssk."

"Of course you do! Why else would you be here? I am no fool. But speak, yes, and tell me what it is you need."

"I need work, Thorssk. I have a ship of my own, but for various reasons, I've fallen foul of this new Empire and I need to lie low for the foreseeable future. In the Outer Rim, preferably."

"Hmm." Thorssk licked his scaly lips, leaning forward. "What kind of bucket are you flying these days?"

Kien thought back to what the mechanic on Lanteeb had told him. "She's a modified TEX-42. 4K cargo space, Class 1.2 hyperdrive."

"Interested in smuggling?"

Kien rocked his head uncertainly. "Potentially. If there's nothing else. I'd prefer not to take jobs that put us right in the Empire's sights."

"Pity. The new regime has every smuggler in the galaxy spooked, what with their promises of cracking down on . . . well, everything. Pay is good now, and will be for some time, until the fearmongering dies down. How big's your crew?"

"Me, plus two."

"Hmm," Thorssk said again, leaning back in his chair and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. He lifted a glass from his side table and took a slurp of whatever blood-red liquid was inside, swirling the remainder around the glass while he turned to one of his bodyguards, another Trandoshan, younger and greener than himself. "Go down to the processing station and check our records. See if there's any . . . opportunities matching Mr. Fulbar's capabilities."

The bodyguard nodded and left the room, leaving the other two – a scarred human woman with blonde hair, and a male Twi'lek – flanking the door.

"Thank you," Kien said, allowing himself a brief sigh of relief. He had been afraid Thorssk would not be amenable to helping him, given that it had been seven years since their last collaboration, but it seemed that would not be a problem.

"Now, now, my friend," Thorssk chided him, chuckling susurrantly. "You know better than to assume my assistance comes without a cost, no?"

Kien sighed again, this time with resignation. "Of course, Thorssk. What can I do for you this time?" he asked.

"Simple," the Trandoshan said. "One of the Hutts has been muscling in on my spice trade in the lower levels. Gravtha, his name is. Nasty piece of work. Anyway, he's running a competing operation down there, but it's fragile. I can't take him on directly – the Hutts know all my regular operators."

"So you want me to do the dirty work, is that it?" Kien frowned. "I'm not one for – what is it you want? Assassination?"

"Not in so many words. Dead beings tell no tales, but they also attract a far more violent retaliation. No, I want his warehouse blown to shit. Detpacks, thermals, fuel tanks, use whatever you like. It's deserted except for security droids most of the time, so you needn't worry about your funny little 'morals' being compromised."

Kien rubbed his temple. "Remind me again why you can't just get one of your boys to blow it up? Surely you have no shortage of untraceables on your payroll. Specialists who would do a far better job than me and my crew."

"This is true," Thorssk admitted, "and I was thinking of setting one of them to it when you came along. Call it . . . an opportunity. You are here, you need my help, you can do something for me. Either way, Gravtha will know I'm behind it, but so long as you're halfway to Wild Space by then, he'll have a hell of a time proving it. I assume you weren't planning on staying here long anyway?"

"I suppose so," Kien agreed, weighing the dangers against the benefits.

"Let me sweeten it for you," the Trandoshan cackled, "for old time's sake. You tell me where your ship is parked, leave me the access codes. Take your crew and go down to blow the warehouse tonight. It'll be unattended and loaded with spice for about four hours. While you're gone, my boys will load up your ship with provisions, cargo and an itinerary. You turn that warehouse into a fireball, come back and fly off with a full hold and full bellies. How's that sound?"

"Fine," Kien said. "Thank you, Thorssk."

"Don't fuck this up."

* * *

"You told him we'd _what_?" Yuli squeaked.

"Sabotage one of his competitor's warehouses," Kien explained once again. "We're just dealing with security droids, so nobody will get hurt."

"Master . . ." she groaned. "This is one of those 'flexibility' things you were talking about, isn't it?"

"I'm glad you understand," he said with a grin, then turned to the most recent addition to the crew. "Blaze, are you up for this?"

"Of course." Blaze nodded emphatically. "There's nothing I enjoy more than fixing things, but blowing them up comes in at a close second."

"Good. Let's go, then. I don't want to miss our window."

As Kien led them through the teetering, precipitous roadways, blaster strapped to her waist, Yuli had plenty of time to sulk. She had been overridden with barely a thought. She had accepted – barely – the need for pragmatism in addition to the tenets of the Jedi Code, but this was on another level. Jedi didn't creep around in the shadows, sabotaging industrial warehouses. That sounded more like a Sith thing. Sure, the proprietor of the warehouse was a filthy, corrupt Hutt crime lord. And sure, the warehouse would be filled only with illegal spice. But that didn't make it _right_.

She lost her train of thought as Kien herded her and Blaze into a rickety elevator. With a lurching shriek, it started slowly downwards, shaking her teeth in her jaw with every feet. "All right," her Master said, turning to look at them. "The plan is simple: we'll approach from the south side, which is furthest from the main roads. According to Thorssk's intel, there will be two sentry droids at the intersection. I'll create a distraction and draw them away while you two go inside to set the explosives. I have no data on the warehouse's schematics, unfortunately, so it'll be up to you to decide how to cause the most damage. The primary target is the spice, millions of credits worth of the stuff."

"And if there's more resistance inside?" Yuli asked, her heart jumping uncomfortably.

"Droids you can dismantle without worrying too much. Thorssk says Gravtha is using ancient, second-hand models. They won't have cameras or a slaved system, so feel free to use your lightsaber – so long as you don't leave any witnesses. If there's organics in there, which there shouldn't be, you'll obviously have to revise the plan on the fly. I don't want anybody finding out we're Jedi. Even out here in Hutt Space, the Empire will have ears everywhere."

"For the record, Master, I _really_ don't like this," Yuli stressed.

"I know," Kien said, his tone softening as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "But this is the sort of thing you're going to have to get used to. Consider it part of your training, if it makes it easier."

"It doesn't," she said frankly, "but I will do as you ask, Master."

"Thank you. For now, that's all I need."

The elevator ground to a halt, spitting them out into the wretched underbelly of Nar Shaddaa's Level 23. It reeked of engine oil and rust, the buildings that supported the higher levels of the city reduced to shadowy monolith. Lit only with weak, flickering yellow lights, the street that stretched ahead of them was piled with trash that left harsh shadows across the cracked pavement.

Picking their way between the garbage, the _Sunset_ 's crew advanced cautiously. Yuli felt a prickling on the back of her neck, but when she turned there was nothing there. They were being watched – but by whom? She took comfort from the concentrating on the hard metal of her lightsaber, hidden beneath her vest as it was. Rubbing her bare arm to ward off the cold, she followed the two men cautiously, glancing down every shadowy alley they passed.

Before long, Kien led them off the main road, taking a long, circuitous route through narrow, confined streets. The terrain was often unstable, and Yuli found herself forced to draw on the Force to navigate the shredded, filthy alleyways safely. She moved in silence, just like Kien and Blaze. But where they walked confidently, seemingly unconcerned at what they were about to do, she stumbled and dragged her feet, unable to quite get her head around what was expected of her.

She had done nothing like this before. She had fought droids, sure. She'd given orders to have thousands of the Separatists' spindly weapons destroyed. She'd sneaked around in the dead of night, holding her breath as her heart thudded loudly in her chest – just as it did now – but all the same, her missions on Geonosis had left her wholly unprepared for the bowels of Nar Shaddaa. And if Master Kien was to be believed, this was far from the worst that the Smugglers' Moon had to offer. There were few signs of life here, for which she was immensely greatful.

After leading them through the backstreets for what felt like an eternity, Kien held up a hand to stop them. Slowly, cautiously, he crept forward to peer around a corner, a black shadow on grey, barely visible. Turning back to her and Blaze, he breathed, "It's here. I see four sentry droids on the intersection. More guards than expected, but same plan. I'll get them out of your way. You wait until I'm out of sight, then get in there and blow it up. Understand?"

Yuli nodded frantically, heart in her mouth. Blaze signalled agreement as well, but his demeanour was cool.

"May the Force be with you, Master," she whispered, suddenly afraid not only for herself, but for Kien. "Be safe."

"I will," he said, then vanished.

Yuli blinked, her mouth open. It was as if her Master had suddenly become invisible. Even as that thought crossed her mind, though, she spotted him again. He had leapt from the dark alleyway into the relatively well-lit street, his speed beyond all normal reasoning. He now stood thirty metres away, waving cheerfully at the sentry droids. "Hello!" he called. "I'd like to buy some spice!"

She watched, holding her breath, as the droids paused their patrolling, then started towards Kien, blasters at the ready. They weren't Separatist battle droids, but an older, three-legged model, with bulkier limbs and bodies and flat heads. "This—area—is—off—limits," one of them blared, its voice low and mechanical. "Leave—or—be—ex-ter-min-at-ed."

"Ah, no," Kien said, sounding genuinely concerned as he approached them casually. "That's not what I want at all. I want to procure some spice, you see."

"Do—not—continue," the lead droid ordered as Kien stepped within just a few metres of them. "You—will—be-"

It never got to finish its sentence. Leaping forward with the Force, Kien drew his lightsaber mid-flight, igniting its yellow blade with a familiar _snap-hiss_. The blade cleaved right through the first droid's torso before any of them could fire, leaving both halves to collapse to the ground with a crash. The other droids opened fire, but Kien was already moving, dashing between them and barrelling down the street adjacent to the warehouse. Turning, the three surviving droids made to pursue him, skittering surprisingly quickly on their weird, three-legged chassis.

As they clattered down the pothole-laden street, guns blazing, Blaze tugged on her elbow. "Come on!" he said urgently. "That's our window."

They broke from cover, dashing out into the street and towards the large, weathered building on the opposite corner of the intersection. Instinctively quickening her pace with the Force, Yuli reached it first, pausing at the door on the corner to look down all four streets. Aside from the rapidly-retreating sounds of Kien drawing away the front door guards, all was clear. She whipped out her lightsaber and ignited it, using the green blade to slice through the rusty old padlock before hastily stowing it once more. She and Blaze each grasped one side of the rusty double doors and heaved them open with a painfully loud screech, before hurrying through and assessing the situation in the dim light flooding through behind them.

There were two levels to the warehouse; they had entered on the main level, but there was also a gantry-style mezzanine that hung from chains bolted to the ceiling. Rickety ladders led up to the gantries, and a small box in the corner served as an overseer's office. There was nothing else she could make out – nothing but the spice. Pallets on pallets of the stuff were stacked in neat piles as far as she could see.

Blaze gave a low whistle. "That," he said, "is more spice than I have seen in my entire life. Ten times over, easily."

"What's it worth?" she asked.

"Hard to say. Depends on the variety, the purity, market trends in the spice trade and how much Gravtha thinks he can pawn it off to poor addicts for." His jaw was set firmer than usual as he spoke.

"Well, you're our demo man," she said, gesturing at the piles of spice. "Can you blow it up?"

"Hmm," Blaze droned, his catlike eyes sparkling in the low light. "The handful of thermal detonators I brought with me won't do it, not with this much stuff to destroy. We're gonna have to find something else. Split up and look for anything flammable. You go that way," he pointed, "and I'll move around the other wall."

"Be careful," she pleaded, before doing as instructed, moving swiftly along the right-hand wall with rapid, echoing footsteps, towards the overseer's office. Upon reaching it, she jiggled the handle unsuccessfully before shrugging and turning the whole mechanism into slag with a deft twirl of her lightsaber. Kicking the door open, she scanned the room. Nothing of use. A battered swivel chair, an ancient computer system, glass bottles – some empty, some half-full of . . . well, it was better not to investigate, judging by the smell.

Backing out of the office, she continued her circuit, navigating cautiously by the weak light that leaked in from outside through small cracks in the rusty walls. At the far corner, where she had expected to meet Blaze, there was nothing. Her heart sank and her breath caught in her chest. Had he met with some misfortune? She hurried further around, breathing a sigh of relief when she caught sight of him kneeling over the shadow of a speeder.

"Hey," he said as she jogged over, forestalling her admonishments. "Look what I found. Four full tanks of gas. Probably used it for deliveries."

"So we can use that?" she asked, breathless with some combination of exertion and anxiety – she wasn't quite sure in what measure.

" _I_ can use it," he corrected her. " _You_ watch my back."

"Got it," she said with a grimace, turning to scan the dim, echoing room. Where was Kien? Surely he had disposed of the droids by now. Had he run into more trouble?

 _No_ , she told herself sternly. According to Thorssk, there were more sentry droids patrolling the neighbouring streets; Kien was probably just dealing with those. She hoped so. They were meant to meet him outside anyway. He could well be waiting at the door, wondering what was taking them so long.


	9. A Hurried Exit

**Chapter Nine  
2220  
Level 23, Nar Shaddaa**

* * *

As Blaze detached the third of four fuel tanks from the speeder, Yuli surveyed their surroundings carefully. The bowels of Nar Shaddaa were nearly silent, in shocking contrast to the riotous sound and colour she had glimpsed in the higher levels. She strained her ears and the Force, trying to detect her Master, or for that matter, anyone else. She couldn't shake the sinking feeling that something was very wrong, although she couldn't say what. Was it just because she was alone again? Kien had left her, and she realised she had already grown used to his stoic, soothing presence. Quiet but forceful, his Force signature was conspicuous by its absence. If she pushed herself, she could sense him somewhere outside the warehouse, but it was a far cry from being at his side, as she had quickly become accustomed to.

"All right, done," Blaze said, standing up and removing four compact detpacks from the bag he had carried with him from the _Sunset_. He affixed one to each of the tanks, then grasped two of them by the handles and hoisted them, fuel sloshing around as he did so. "Those are yours," he said, indicating the two remaining tanks with a nod. "Plant one at the far corner, in one of the pallets. Point it inwards so it destroys as much as possible. Arm the charge, then bring the other one to the door we came in. I'll place these two at the other corners, then meet you there and we can blow them all at once as we leave."

"Got it." Yuli nodded resolutely, heaving the two tanks off the ground and slogging away – through the spice – towards the first corner she had passed. The fuel was heavy, but not unmanageable, and she even managed to break into a jog for a few seconds. When she reached the end of the stacks, she placed one on the ground before wedging the second into the pallet of spice. It fit nicely between two of the plastic-wrapped bundles. She flipped the switch on the detpack, arming it, then scooped up the other and set off for the door at a trot, her load considerably lightened.

Blaze hadn't arrived yet when she reached the door, so she stuffed the second fuel tank into another spice pallet, arming the detonator with a _beep_. Yuli looked around fretfully. The detonators were not on a timer, but she didn't feel particularly comfortable hanging around in a warehouse rigged to explode in a maelstrom of fiery death.

To her great relief, however, Blaze appeared thirty seconds later, holding the detonator in one hand. "We're all set to go," he said, grinning. "Let's get out of here, find the captain and get to a safe distance to watch the fireworks."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen," growled a guttural voice from the open door.

As Yuli spun, a blaster spat, slamming into her gut with an almost physical impact. _A stun bolt_ , she realised through the numbing pain that spread instantly throughout her body. Before she could draw her lightsaber, she felt her limbs falling asleep, forcing her to collapse awkwardly to the ground. A second round incapacitated Blaze, and she heard him fall to the ground next to her, detonator tumbling from his fingers with a clatter. She craned her neck as best she could, stretching her gaze towards the door.

A large, grey, hairy foot stomped into view. "Well, well, well . . ." its owner rumbled, chuckling. "Looks like we caught us some womp rats in the storehouse, boys. Bring in the other one."

Something heavy was dragged inside by two more unseen figures and tossed unceremoniously on the ground in front of her. Kien's motionless body, blood trickling from his forehead. Yuli felt her eyes widen. "No," she croaked.

The leader of the group laughed again, low and threatening. He reached down, grasping Yuli by her collar and lifting her in the air as effortlessly as if she had been a ragdoll. She saw large, furred ears and a bony head, set with large, green eyes and a cold, fanged grin. Beginning to recover the use of her limbs, Yuli struggled as best she could, but the Lasat's grip was iron.

"Well, well, well," he said, sounding very pleased with himself. "What have we here? Thorssk's minions, I presume. But where did you get. This. Lightsaber?" he pondered aloud, dangling Kien's deactivated weapon in front of her face with his free hand. "Don't tell me you're _Jedi_."

On the ground, Blaze groaned, dragging himself to his elbows. "That's right," he said.

"Blaze," Yuli choked out, grasping the Lasat's fingers and trying to prise them from her collar. "Don't . . ."

"We are Jedi," Blaze continued unfazed, drawing himself up to his hands and knees. "Tell Gravtha his illegal operation here is over."

 _What the hell are you talking about?_ Yuli wanted to scream, but she was running out of air.

"Grab that detonator," the Lasat ordered, pointing one of his goons forward. "We don't want any surprises. As if growing bored of her, he tossed Yuli to one side. She landed awkwardly on her still-healing arm, crying out involuntarily as the pain lanced through her entire upper body.

"You," she managed to gasp out. "Why . . . how?"

The Lasat's malicious grin grew wider as he watched her writhing in pain, still suffering from the effects of the stun gun. "You didn't really think we'd leave something so valuable defended by _droids_ , did you? Gravtha knew Thorssk would send some of his goons to try something, so we set a trap. I didn't expect the lizard to hire fucking Jedi, though!"

"The Jedi aren't killers for hire," Blaze spat, attempting to get to his feet, but he was quickly shunted back down by a mercenary's foot. "We're shutting you down, criminal scum."

Yuli started to catch on to what Blaze was doing, clued in by his terrible overacting. He was buying time by chattering, but the muscular Lasat seemed to be getting bored. His smile twisted into a grimace as he strode forward, delivering a solid kick to Blaze's torso. Something cracked and Yuli's one remaining ally crumpled to the ground, unmoving.

"No!" She couldn't help herself from crying out. Frantically, she searched for a way out of this situation. She hadn't escaped from the _Sunrise_ to die here, face down in the muck in the smoggy underbelly of a Hutt moon. There had to be something she could do. Could she draw her lightsaber? Perhaps in a few seconds. Right now, she felt pain shoot up her arm whenever she moved it, and she was still sluggish from the stun bolt to the gut. Her head spun. The Lasat drew closer, drawing a wicked-looking blaster from his belt.

"Well," he said, savouring his words as he bore down upon her, "I think I've heard enough. Jedi or not, you will die here tonight. I think I'll leave your corpses on Thorssk's doorstep as a message. How's that? You get to be useful one last time to your piece of shit master."

Gritting her teeth, Yuli summoned her strength and pulled herself into a sitting position. It was time to double down and hope that whatever Blaze had been trying to do bore fruit. "Lasat," she said imperiously, doing her best to look down her nose at the hulking, two-metre tall humanoid, "you are about to cross a line from which there can be no return. If you surrender yourself to my custody now, you will receive a fair trial and be sentenced in court." As she spoke, she drew on the last reserves of her strength, reaching out to the Force and pooling it, storing it in her sluggish limbs.

"Oh?" He sounded amused. "And if I don't?"

Yuli gulped. She wasn't very good at this either. "I can assure you, the alternative does not bear thinking about. In fact, if you were to –"

Luckily, she never had to finish that sentence, because it was at precisely that moment when an explosion rocked the warehouse. The ground shook and gantries groaned as the entire buildings yanked at its foundations, and fire roared upwards over the pallets, causing the interior to be painted with a flickering orange glow.

The Lasat howled in anger, rounding on the man who held the detonator. "What the fuck did you do?"

"I didn't! Nothing, I swear!" the man gibbered, holding up the still-primed detonator as proof. "Look, I didn't press it, you can still –" He thumbed the button, clearly expecting nothing to happen, and for a moment, nothing did.

Yuli's eyes went wide and she threw herself towards the door as best she could, winding up awkwardly draped across her Master's body. Even so, the heat and impact of the nearest blast slammed into her like a sledgehammer, lifting her off the ground for a moment before depositing her roughly back, groaning.

Roaring furiously, the Lasat – who had kept his feet after the second blast – cursed at his men. "Get in there! Put the fires out! Save as much of the spice as you can!" The men edged forward, but seemed reluctant to enter the conflagration as it spread from pallet to pallet. The flame was leaping rapidly between the tightly packed stacks of spice, and the initial blast had caught some stacked on the gantries as well.

With a groan, one of the ancient chains holding the gantry up snapped, falling to the ground with a metallic clatter. Unable to support the platform, the rudimentary supports gave way, allowing a large section of the gantry to collapse to the floor, burning piles of spice sliding off the sloping platform and spreading the fire to as yet untouched stacks. Within moments, the entire contents of the warehouse were engulfed in flame.

The Lasat growled and whirled toward Yuli, raising his blaster, but she was ready for it. Releasing the stored energy she had been collecting, she leapt forward, drawing her lightsaber and shearing the Lasat's blaster in two with one move. Her legs screamed at the unexpected movement, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to stay upright.

Tossing the wrecked blaster aside, the burly Lasat made to charge her, but Yuli had her guard up, and was able to fend him off, preventing him from closing the distance. He growled, pacing back and forward like a wild beast in a cage, eyes practically glowing red as several million credits' worth of spice went up in flames behind him. "You fucking brats," he growled.

"I did warn you," Yuli said, with more bravado than she felt. "We'll be leaving now. You can explain the burning warehouse to Gravtha."

Blaze groaned behind her, staggering to his feet and clutching his ribs. "Ugh. Can the captain walk?"

Yuli glanced down at Kien's unmoving body. "I'm going with no," she said bitterly. "Come on, help me get him up." Keeping her lightsaber carefully out in front of her, she bent down and grasped Kien under one arm. Blaze unsteadily grabbed the other and they hoisted him up between them, slinging one of his arms over each of their shoulders.

Gravtha's hired muscle hunkered down as if to spring, but he eyed Yuli's lightsaber cautiously. "You'll get it for this," he hissed, following the three at a prowl as they backed towards the door.

"Try it," Yuli spat, more bravely than she felt. "Don't you have spice to be rescuing, though?"

The Lasat half-turned back towards the rapidly-spreading conflagration, as if seriously contemplating diving into it. "No!" he growled. "If I have to report this failure, I want to at least have your head on a stick!" He lunged at Yuli, attempting to dive past her guard.

Bringing the lightsaber up awkwardly, she lashed out, feeling it bite into the Lasat's arm. She was off balance; dragging Kien's unconscious form was making it hard to keep her footing. As the Lasat roared and charged again, she made a quick decision. Dropping out from under Kien's listless right arm, she stepped forward and down, her knee almost touching the ground, lightsaber drawn back in a defensive Shien stance. As the Lasat's momentum carried him towards her, she thrust up and forwards, driving her green blade into his left leg.

Not wanting to permanently cripple the mercenary, Yuli hurriedly deactivated her lightsaber, nevertheless leaving a gaping wound that caused the hairy beast to roar in pain and collapse to the ground. Yuli almost followed suit herself, the swift manoeuvre having drained her almost to the point of unconsciousness. Fighting back the blackness encroaching on the edges of her vision, she picked up her part of the burden again and continued dragging Kien outside.

"I'll remember this, you Jedi brat!" the Lasat howled as they stumbled out of the door.

Yuli remained silent, but instead stretched out with the Force, snatching her Master's lightsaber from where the Lasat had dropped it. The weapon flew into her hand, and she stowed it carefully before turning away, leaving the warehouse engulfed in flames. Now was not the time for quips. Now was the time to leave. "Do you remember which way we came?" she asked worriedly.

Blaze nodded, tight-lipped. A hefty, dark bruise was forming on his temple, and he walked hunched over, free hand clutching his chest.

As distant sirens began to wail and the inferno spread through the warehouse, the crew of the _Sunset_ limped into the dark underbelly of Nar Shaddaa.

* * *

The splitting pain in his head was the only thing that convinced Thomas Kien he was still alive. Everything else was numb and unresponsive. He tried to lift an arm, but all he managed was a twitch, and that sent a fresh jolt of pain through him. He was moving – or _being_ moved – but every bump and turn caused another spike of discomfort.

Focusing on breathing, Kien slowly let his surroundings return to focus through bleary, blood-caked eyes. "Yuli," he groaned, addressing the blurry blue form at his right.

"Master!" she exclaimed. "Quick, Blaze, put him down."

The two indistinct forms carrying him set him down against a cold, damp wall and crouched in front of him.

"Master, are you all right?" Yuli's voice was filled with anxiety and barely restrained tears. "Moons, I thought you were dead there!"

Kien groaned, rolling his neck and feeling it creak. He wriggled his toes and fingers, ensuring that nothing was broken. It all hurt, but seemed to be in order. His vision was clearing up too, bringing a concerned Yuli and Blaze into focus. "What . . . the warehouse?"

"In flames," Blaze said, his face displaying grim satisfaction. "What happened to you?"

"Snuck up on me," Kien managed to say. "Hit me on the head, that's all I know. You managed to burn it?"

"All of it," Yuli said, her face pale. "But we need to get off this moon before Gravtha's thugs come after us. I'm sorry, Master, but we don't have time to rest yet."

They lifted him again. Though Kien's arms protested, he draped them over their shoulders and stumbled forward. Within a few minutes, his legs were able to partially support his weight, and progress became easier.

Making it back to the _Coruscant Sunset_ seemed to take an age. The elevator in particular rattled and clanked its way up the towers in no great hurry, every bump and jolt causing a spike of pain to shoot through his already tender head. By the time they reached the top, the numbness was wearing off and his brain was throbbing against his skull, but he was able to stagger out of the elevator carriage almost unassisted.

"So what happened?" he asked, still leaning on Yuli as they stumbled back to where the _Sunset_ was docked.

"We set the charges," Blaze said, peering over his shoulder worriedly, "and we were about to leave when some of Gravtha's goons showed up. Either your contact was lying when he said there were just droids on patrol, or Gravtha pulled one over on him."

"Thorssk is a crafty bastard," Kien said, "but he wouldn't lie about something like that."

"Whatever, it's done now. So they grabbed the detonator, but I'd rigged one of the charges to blow on a sixty-second timer, just in case. We basically grabbed you and slipped out in the confusion."

"Thank the stars," Kien said. "I'm sorry I couldn't do more, but I guess I'm still rusty."

"Oh, and one more thing," Blaze said with a grin. "I pinned the attack on the Jedi."

"You're kidding. They bought that?"

The younger man shrugged. "Maybe. They had your lightsaber, though, and Yuli pulled hers out too. And besides, who's left to deny it?"

"Ouch," Kien said bitterly. "But you're right. If Gravtha believes it was a Jedi sting instead of a business rival, he might leave Thorssk alone."

"I'm beginning to hope they don't," Yuli snapped. "Your friend almost got us all killed, Master!"

"Hey, I never said he was trustworthy. I don't like the guy myself, but if he's kept his word – and I think he will have – we'll have a hold full of cargo and an itinerary that will take us deep into the Outer Rim."

They reached the _Coruscant Sunset_ without incident, only to find one of Thorssk's guards standing outside – the scarred woman from the _Saurin Pride_. She really was very pretty, or would have been were it not for the jagged scar that ran straight down one side of her heart-shaped face, through a cybernetic eye. She wore light plastoid body armour in black and silver, with a blaster at her hip and who knew what kinds of gadgetry attached to her belt. At their approach, she raised an eyebrow. "Not as smooth a job as you thought, I guess."

"Not half," Kien said bitterly. "But it's done. Gravtha's spice went up in smoke. I guess that's why you're here? To make sure we got the job done?"

She chuckled. "More or less. I've brought your cargo and itinerary, but it looks like you need a bacta pack before anything else. Come on in." Calmly keying in the access codes, she stepped inside and invited them into their own ship with a wave.

Kien shared a slightly perturbed glance with Yuli and Blaze, but shrugged and followed the mercenary to the medical bay. There was only one mattress, and glancing around his small crew, Kien elected to assign it to Blaze, who was breathing only shallowly, despite having just blown up a warehouse and rushed back through Nar Shaddaa.

"I'm Zaara, by the way," the woman said as she nudged Kien out of the way, ripping Blaze's shirt open and inspecting his chest carefully. She poked several places around his solar plexus, noting his reaction each time. "Hmm. Looks like a cracked rib. Probably nothing serious, but you should stay there."

"Uh, Zaara?" Kien began, but this only caused her to whirl on him.

"Sit," she said imperiously, indicating the edge of the mattress. When he obeyed, she grabbed his head and looked it over, yanking his hair out of the way to access the scalp. "Bruising, minor contusions. Look at my finger."

"I don't really . . ." he protested, following her finger as she moved it from left to right in front of him, watching his eyes.

"Yep, concussion. Get a bacta pack on that head wound so it doesn't swell, but you'll be all right too. What about you?" Just as suddenly as she had started, she was gone, turning on Yuli.

"I'm fine," the Pantoran protested. "These two were beaten up, I just got hit by a stun bolt."

"And those?" Zaara nodded towards the bandages on Yuli's right arm.

"Blaster wounds. A week old now, nearly healed."

"Hmm." Zaara looked unconvinced, but nodded. "I'll have a look later."

"Why are you doing this?" Kien finally managed to ask. "You just came to deliver Thorssk's message, right?"

"Also to protect his investments," she said, raising a finger. "The good news is you'll all be fine before long."

"And the bad news?" Kien said hesitantly.

"Wellllll . . ." Zaara suddenly became very interested in a point on the wall above Kien's head. "It's not _bad_ news, per se, but you might not be too pleased." She unclipped a datapad from her belt, handing it to Kien.

He scanned it quickly. "Medicine, custom ship parts, raw spice – oh, the irony – Naboo blossom wine, et cetera, et cetera, and . . . one passenger." Kien looked up, sighing. "Really, now."

Zaara grinned guiltily. "Sorry, but I don't think you're in a position to be picky."

Kien groaned. "No wonder Thorssk was so keen to help. So where are we supposed to be taking you, and what for?"

"Betha II. About time I moved on from Nar Shaddaa, and I have friends there." Zaara crossed back over to the mattress and began assembling a compress on Blaze's chest.

"Nobody has friends on Betha II," Yuli said. "The planet was abandoned thousands of years ago when it dried up."

"Not exactly," Zaara said, grinning mischievously. "But the 'who' isn't important. It only matters that I get there. You're being paid to haul me too, of course, and I'll serve as part of your crew until we get there."

Kien closed his eyes and rubbed his throbbing head. He would have preferred to get some rest and argue about this in the morning, but he couldn't know whether Gravtha's thugs were tracking them already. Staying on Nar Shaddaa could be fatal now, and he could hardly risk angering Thorssk; the Trandoshan wouldn't hesitate to put a bounty on your head if you stiffed him. He sighed wearily and stood up, feeling himself sway slightly as he did so. "Fine. Welcome aboard. You can bunk with Yuli."

"Master!" Yuli squeaked indignantly.

"You can keep an eye on our new friend," he told her. "I trust Thorssk – kind of – but I don't trust her yet. Right now we just need to get off this rock."

Ten minutes later, the _Coruscant Sunset_ jumped to hyperspace, rocketing through the messy tangle of Hutt Space towards Galactic North and their first stop: Sriluur. At the controls, Kien leaned back in his chair and groaned. He was sick of leaving systems in such a hurry, though at least nobody was shooting at him this time. Perhaps, one day, he would find a planet where he could relax for a while. Somewhere he could spend some time just resting, meditating and reading, like he used to so often in the Jedi Temple. Somewhere he could leave on his own terms, when he felt like it, not forced away by Imperial pursuit or irate Hutts.

For now, though, he massaged his temples, trying to make the headache recede. He was lucky, he had to admit, that the blow to his head hadn't done more significant damage. Still, he didn't feel like it. He had lain, unconscious, on the ground, while his Padawan and their new friend faced all the danger, blew up the spice and dragged him away between them. What kind of Master would let that happen?

There would have to be improvement. That much was clear. He had spent three years as an officer in the Clone War, but that had done little to prepare him for this. He had an apprentice now, and his little crew was growing at a remarkable speed. Part of him was thankful for the interlopers who had practically been foisted upon him – two people was a small crew, even for a ship this small – but he couldn't shake his worries. Blaze had proved his worth on Level 23, and he would at least be rid of Zaara once they reached the Betha system. It was right at the end of their itinerary, of course. Between crowded hyperspace lanes, the difficulty of navigating this section of the Outer Rim, and their multiple stops along a meandering, arcing route, it would be a good couple of weeks before they were able to drop her off. He sighed again, wishing he could just sleep. Takshi had been a long time ago, and aside from a quick – and dangerous – nap on the approach to Nar Shaddaa, he hadn't been able to rest. His Jedi training served him well by allowing him to function for nearly forty-eight standard hours before needing sleep, but his energy reserves were beginning to run dry. A noise from the entrance caused him to half-turn in surprise.

"You're near dead on your feet, Cap," Zaara said, strolling into the cockpit as if she owned the place. "The other two are asleep, and so should you be."

"Who's going to fly the ship? You?"

She snorted derisively. "Please. I could fly this thing through the teeth of a space worm, and you're worried about whether I can monitor the autopilot?"

"I don't know . . ." Kien said, but he was far too tired to argue properly.

"Go on, six hours. We won't even be halfway to Sriluur by then, and you can take over for the rest of the trip. Doctor's orders."

"Fine." For what felt like the millionth time that day, Kien reluctantly agreed. He would have to start taking control of situations soon, but for now he had to just go with it. "Wake me up if anything happens," he said, beginning to settle back into his chair.

"Oh no you don't," Zaara said disapprovingly, smacking him lightly on the head. "Get to your bunk, or else you'll wake up even sorer than you are now."

Grumbling, Kien left the cockpit and headed for the rear of the ship. She was right, but he would never survive if he couldn't be a little flexible from time to time. Stars, he was as bad as Yuli sometimes.

With Yuli asleep and Blaze still in the medical bay, there were three double-bunk pods left unoccupied. Kien picked one at random and stumbled onto the bottom bunk, escaping from his pounding headache in the quiet release of sleep.


	10. Interlude

_Author Notes: Just a short one today, lads. Bridging story arcs, introducing characters and all that jazz. Back to the usual length (~4,000+) on Friday. :)_

* * *

 **Chapter Ten  
Seven Hours Later  
Hyperspace**

* * *

When Thomas Kien first awoke, he rather wished that he hadn't. While the stabbing pain in his head had subsided somewhat, it had been replaced by a dull, unspecific ache that seemed to suffuse his entire cranium. Creaking his way out of bed, he noticed a bottle of water and some pills on the table next to him, along with a handwritten note: 'Painkillers, anti-inflammatory and antibiotics just in case – Y'. Smiling helplessly, Kien was once again struck by a profound melancholy. How was he supposed to teach and guide the young Jedi – let alone manage his own crew – if he couldn't even look after himself?

 _No_ , he thought. _No, there's no room to think about that. I just have to do better next time._ He could ill afford to get caught up in doubt. They were all okay, and that was what mattered. He himself had been out of commission, but Blaze and Yuli had pulled through. A little pride swelled in Kien's chest. He could hardly take credit for Yuli's actions after teaching her for less than a week, but it gave him a measure of peace of mind to realise that perhaps he didn't have to be so worried.

She was strong, Kien reflected as he downed the pills. When he had taken her on as a Padawan, he had seen her sense of righteousness and compassion, but not her strength. He had thought her weak, he was forced to admit. During the battle on the _Sunrise_ , her emotions had overwhelmed her, throwing her off balance and reducing her to a child, running fearfully in his wake. He hadn't seen the steel in her until just now, on Nar Shaddaa.

Yes. She would do well as his apprentice. For now, he just had to focus on keeping them all alive. The worst was behind them now, surely. They were outside the Republic's normal sphere of influence now; while many Outer Rim worlds were allied with the Republic, the Senate's grip had always been weak out here, particularly near the self-governing Hutt Space. Hopefully, the transition from Republic to Empire would have exacerbated affairs. They would be unlikely to encounter Palpatine's troops out here.

Letting the door to his room _whoosh_ closed behind him, Kien strode towards the cockpit. He came up short, however, when he saw Yuli and Blaze in conversation in the medical bay. They stopped when they saw him, greeting him with smiles. "Sleep well, Master?" Yuli asked.

"Too well. We should be about halfway to Sriluur now, right?"

"Well, by our new pilot's reckoning," Blaze said, rolling his eyes visibly, "we're five hours out."

Kien checked the timepiece above the supply shelf. The maths checked out. _Of course it does_. He kicked himself. Was he really that untrusting? Did he really think Zaara was going to hijack the ship or something? It was ridiculous to think, but he was still unconvinced about the newest member of their crew.

 _Stop second-guessing yourself_. "I'm going to have a word with Zaara," he said. "Wait here."

Zaara was kicked back in the co-pilot's chair, right where he had left her. At first glance she could have been asleep, but she turned to smile disarmingly as he entered the cockpit, slowly taking his own seat. "Morning, sleepyhead," she said. "Feeling better?"

"Hmm," Kien said noncommittally. Now that he was up and about with drugs in his system, he was more or less all right. He wasn't going to credit Zaara with that, though.

"Once everyone else woke up, I had a proper look at your first officer's rib. It's only a minor fracture, and it won't even hurt once the bruising dies down. I'd rather he didn't do anything too strenuous for a week or two while the bacta does its work, though."

Kien looked at her for a second. "Zaara," he said slowly. "Why are you so . . ." He gesticulated helplessly.

"Talented? Wonderful? Beautiful?"

"So . . . _interested_. You're a strange one. You worked for Thorssk as a bodyguard. That means you're competent, and you've been working for him long enough that he trusts you."

"Of course." So far, Kien had only seen her in two aspects: casual and flippant, or bossy and overbearing. Now, though, she had her arms folded in a tensely cautious stance. If he hadn't been watching her intently for just such minor tells, he might have missed the subtlety of the movement.

"Yet you obviously have some kind of medical experience," Kien continued, "which you are more than willing to put to use taking care of my crew. Your first instinct is to look after people, which leaves me with two best guesses. One – and I don't like this one – you're just buttering us up, making us trust you and let down our guard for . . . some nefarious purpose."

Zaara snorted. "Please. I could have murdered you all in your sleep and dumped the bodies in space if I wanted to."

"Exactly, which is why I'm not buying that one. Still an outside possibility, though. Secondly . . . you're desperately trying to get on our good side for some other reason."

"Can't a girl protect her interests?" Zaara prompted, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not likely to make it to Betha if my hired crew insists on getting shot at and beaten up."

Kien raised an eyebrow in return. "All right, then," he said. "I'll take you at face value for now, but remember that I don't entirely trust you, and I won't until you come clean with us."

". . . Deal." Zaara looked a little perturbed, but she nodded. Then she laughed, shaking her head. "Stars, but you're sharp, Captain 'Fulbar'."

Kien blinked. "Right. I should probably tell you that's not my name."

"Like I didn't know that," she laughed. "I won't mind if you don't wanna tell me, though."

"No, there's no point now. On my own ship, I'm Captain Thomas Kien."

"Charmed. And the others?"

"Blaze serves as my first officer and mechanic, and Yuli is my . . . protégé," Kien said slowly.

"Uh-huh." Zaara didn't seem to buy it, but at least she wasn't questioning it. "Well," she said eventually, standing up and stretching, "this has been lovely, but I need to get some shuteye now too. Ta-ta." With that, she sauntered out of the cockpit, leaving Kien alone with his thoughts.

Finally able to gather himself, Kien looked over the itinerary Zaara had supplied once more. When plotted on a star chart, it was a curious route. Taking them pretty much dead north out of Hutt Space, they would follow both commonly known and less-trafficked hyperspace lanes from Sriluur, through to Boonta, Budpock, Lianna and finally Zygerria, a remote world on the edge of Wild Space. It would have been a perfect start for disappearing from the Empire's radar, but the final stop – Betha II – was so far out of their way as to be suspicious. Was that really her destination?

Kien sighed, spinning idly in his chair. There was no sense thinking too deeply about it now. He would only go mad trying to puzzle out the mercenary's goals and motives. For the moment, all he had to do was avoid getting complacent around her.

He checked the nav computer. Four and a half hours out, as it should be. _Jeez, relax. Not everybody in the galaxy is out to get you_ , he scolded himself. Zaara _was_ hiding something, though. Whether that something posed a threat to him and his crew, though, he could not discern.

Closing his eyes, Kien slipped into a shallow meditation, letting his breathing and heart rate slow while he reached out with the Force, brushing against every presence on the ship. Zaara's presence was strange and unfamiliar, but it didn't feel malignant. Divining people's intentions had never been a strong point of Kien's, but he was fairly sure Zaara could be trusted, at least for the meantime.

Allowing himself to relax, Kien spent the rest of the journey quietly ruminating.

* * *

Perses stood, unmoving, amid the filth of Nar Shaddaa. Rodents squeaked and skittered around his feet, but he paid them no mind. Distant speeders buzzed through the skylanes like insects, but he heeded them not. Groans of heavy machinery from the nearby industrial district filled the air, but he tuned them out without even thinking. His heavy, blood-red cloak pooled on the dirty ground, and the distant flames flickered against his fanged mask. A bone-white visage, permanently frozen in a monstrous scowl, it was a mark of his new identity – and his new purpose.

His attention was focused, direct. He sought the Force, grasping it and bending it to his will. Power flowed through him as he watched the warehouse burn. It reeked, both physically and on another level. Spice let off a pungent smell when burned, such that nobody who came within a hundred metres would have any illusions as to the contents of the collapsing building. Even more telling, though, was the fading signature of the Force. Weak, but noticeable, he had sniffed it out.

There had been Jedi here. When? Minutes ago? Days? It mattered not. He would find them. He was the destroyer.

And he would have his prey.

* * *

Sriluur was just as barren and desolate as Kien had imagined it. 'Civilisation', such as it was, could be found in nearly every sector of the planet's dry, scrubby surface, but much of it was little more than temporary settlements and nomadic Weequay. Dotted around, however, were numerous elaborate, multi-storey houses belonging to rich offworlders. Sriluur was home to pirates, smugglers and brigands alike, but its location on the fringes of Hutt Space had made it an attractive prospect to those seeking to avoid the Republic's grasp.

Kien touched the _Sunset_ down near the estate of a certain rich Houk. While Yuli helped him unload several cases of blossom wine, passing them off to the Houk's doorman, Zaara checked up on Blaze's condition. He was still resting in the medical bay with a bacta patch on his chest, although he swore up and down that he was ready to take on his duties. Kien couldn't see anything significantly wrong with him, but he deferred to Zaara's medical expertise when she said the young man should rest for another day.

Once the wine had been delivered, Kien took their payment – in cash – and returned to the ship.

"Master," Yuli said thoughtfully as they walked, "do you suppose there are other Jedi out there? Living on the run, like we are?"

"Almost certainly," Kien said. "What brought this on so suddenly?"

"I've had some time to think," she confessed, slowing her pace, "and I was wondering if we should be . . . trying to find them."

"For what purpose?" Kien sounded colder than he'd intended to. "I mean, what could we do even if we did find other Jedi?"

"I . . . I don't know. I just want to be doing _something_! The more I hear about this Empire, the more I become convinced it's a blight upon the galaxy. We could try and gather other survivors and try to do something about it?"

Kien sighed. "Your intentions are noble, young one, but optimistic. It bears thinking about, but for now, we are very much alone in the galaxy, opposed by an Empire with all the resources of the Republic and none of its limitations. We should focus on safeguarding ourselves, making the Empire forget about us, and then . . . then we can look to the future."

"You're right," Yuli said, her voice small. "I'm sorry, Master."

"Don't apologise, Blue. Your compassion is one of your greatest strengths. Just remember to temper it with reason and I'm sure you'll do the right thing."

Zaara was waiting for them when they returned, sitting casually on the edge of the cargo hold's open hatch. "You have a message," she said with studied indifference.

"Thorssk?" Kien asked.

"Yeah. It'll be in the central computer." She jerked her head toward the front of the _Sunset_.

"Thanks," Kien said, raising a hand in acknowledgement. "Oh, was that all the cargo for Sriluur?"

Zaara checked her copy of the itinerary. "We've got to pick up a shipment destined for Lianna, but it won't be ready till tomorrow night. Might as well stay here till the morning, we have plenty of time." She waved a hand at the rapidly setting sun.

"Yeah, good call." Kien paused for a moment to glance at the sky. It was pure habit, nothing more; he wouldn't see the Empire coming until it was too late.

Was this his destiny now? To spend the rest of his life watching his back, seeing shadows around every corner? Constant paranoia? That couldn't be healthy. Shaking his head, Kien entered the ship and strode into the common area, calling up Thorssk's message on the holotable.

 _"_ _Fulbar, you've done me proud,_ jahumba _!"_ the translucent blue Trandoshan said. _"Millions of credits of spice, up in smoke! I love it! And I don't know how you did it, but you threw Gravtha's boys off the trail too! I was expecting an angry call from the Hutt himself or one of his goons, but he's got them running around the lower levels looking for Jedi! Impressive work, my friend. Anyway, I wanted to thank you directly, but I suppose you're off making deliveries. Don't forget to come and visit me next time you're on Nar Shaddaa. Thorssk out."_

The projection rotated slowly and sank back into the table, leaving Kien and Yuli alone in the central room.

"Well," Yuli said after a few moments, "sounds like he was happy with our work."

"Yeah," Kien said, fighting back a wave of guilt. He forced himself to crack a grin. "Your and Blaze's work, that is. Seriously, thank you for getting the job done, Yuli. I know you weren't happy about doing it in the first place, but you overcame your concerns and completed the mission. You saved me this time."

"It wasn't easy, Master."

"I know. Stars, Yuli, I know that. But you came through, and I'm proud of you for that."

She was silent for a while, watching the muted HoloNet broadcast being displayed on the wall monitor.

"Hey, Master," she said. "Tell me more . . . of your story."


	11. Recollection 2

_A/N: Wow, so, hi. Sorry about that. Real life happened, then I upgraded to a new computer and lost all my passwords because I'm terribly forgetful. I never meant to just leave you guys hanging, and I had three or four more chapters ready to go when I dropped off the radar. Really sorry for going dark, it won't happen again.  
_

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven  
34 BBY  
Recollection 2  
Metra, Takshi Prime**

* * *

Davthar and I met Mar and Karreth in the downtown markets. They were already there waiting for us, the tall redhead tapping her foot impatiently as her companion quietly sipped on a glass of fruit juice. "You're _late_ ," Mar snapped. "How could you possibly have gotten here _after_ us?" She had changed into casual but functional clothes, khaki and brown, and had loosened her braid into a messy ponytail.

Davthar shot me a glance, but didn't mention our conversation. "Ran into some traffic stops," he said with a shrug.

"We have plenty of time," Karreth said. His voice was a soft, deep baritone that carried surprisingly well in the bustling market.

Mar grumbled but acquiesced, sitting back down at the table Karreth hadn't bothered to rise from. She gestured for us to do the same. "Come on, sit. I need to fill the new guy in on the details."

I glanced around as I pulled up a chair. Hundreds of people milled through the market, dressed in the idiosyncratic combinations of white cotton and garishly coloured silk that I was coming to expect. "Here? It's not exactly quiet."

"Exactly. Nobody will pay us any attention, nobody will hear what we're saying. So listen. We've managed to get involved with a group of political dissidents based in the city who we think the more radical factions use as a recruiting base. Tonight there's a big event on in an abandoned warehouse just outside town. We think there's going to be representatives there from the criminal cells, so we're going to go along and have them lead us to their bosses. If that involves getting recruited, so be it. If not, we just need to identify our targets and track them home. Any questions?"

I paused a moment, but decided it would be worth asking: "Do we know anything about this shady rebel cell? How can you be sure they're connected at all?"

"Of course they are. Why wouldn't they be?" Mar sounded like she hadn't even considered the alternative.

I shook my head and tried a different tack. "Never mind. What about this group of political dissidents that you joined? What's their deal?"

"The MYL, or Metra Youth League," Mar explained. "They go back decades as a non-partisan civil organisation providing support for youth and workers. Legal representation, lobbying, bake sales, you name it. On the surface, it's all very above-board. Recently, though, a group within the MYL has been canvassing recruits for what they call 'political demonstrations', but nobody's seen these demonstrations taking place."

"Very fishy," I agreed. "So tonight you expect them to reveal the truth?"

"Not in as many words," Mar said grimly. "Which is why we have to try extra hard to get noticed and picked up. I have trackers and whisper-sensitive commlinks for both of you in case we get separated. Karreth and I will get you in there, then we'll split into pairs to cover more ground. Make yourselves known, and do your best to attract the wrong kinds of attention."

Davthar grinned wickedly. "My speciality. This is gonna be fun!"

"You wanna dial it back a notch there, Darth Davthar?" I prodded him gently. "We're investigating, not instigating."

"Hey, if it causes them to take notice of you, a little chaos might not be a bad thing," Mar said with a shrug. "Stick close to each other, though, and don't do anything too reckless."

I but my lip and nodded. This all sounded pretty reckless to begin with, if you asked me. Still, this was what I was here for.

Wasn't it?

* * *

The warehouse was dark and gloomy, which did little to restore my unquiet mood. Perhaps a hundred people milled around inside, ranging from young teens to young adults. Many of them wore simple white cotton, eschewing the typical Takshian vanity associated with their colourful silks. A few adults waited around the fringes, simply watching the crowd without participating; I had noticed them as soon as we entered.

Getting in hadn't been a problem. Once the hairy Bothan on the door had recognised Mar and Karreth, he had waved me in without a second thought. I stretched out with the Force, trying to get a read on the crowd or identify any outliers. The sheer number and variety of beings here was throwing off my readings, though. Where I was accustomed to the quiet peace of the Temple on Coruscant, this was almost directly in opposition to that familiar serenity. Warehouse 14, as I had learned it was called, was a festering breeding ground of resentment and youthful aggression. I pulled back my Force tendrils to keep from being overwhelmed. Picking out any individuals in this morass was futile.

Instead, I focused on my physical senses, watching my neighbours in the crowd and straining to catch snippets of their conversations.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" a voice boomed. A man of about thirty had stepped up onto a makeshift stage at one end of the warehouse, holding an old-fashioned wireless microphone. He had olive skin and sharp blue eyes, and even though he wasn't exactly tall, he commanded the room's attention with just a few words. Dressed all in white, he raised one arm above his head and fairly shouted, "The revolution approaches, and you and I are the soldiers of destiny!"

I exchanged a sceptical glance with Davthar; this guy was laying it on a little thick already. The crowd was loving it though, responding with a deafening roar to the inane platitudes. I shrugged mentally and joined in before the hubbub subsided, awaiting their messiah's next words.

"The time has almost come," he said, his voice hushed, though still magnified clearly throughout the space. He repeated, "The time has almost come, and when it _does_ come, everyone must play their part. Your role may be different to your neighbour's, but you are all a valued part of the revolution!"

The crowd cheered again, and I did my best to appear enthusiastic. I caught a glimpse of Mar's red hair, bouncing at the front of the room. The energy was building, I noted nervously.

"I have come before you today with a plea," the man in white continued. "Not all of you are fighters, but my army needs warriors! If we are to truly break the chains of oppression that have shackled us for generations, we must be ready to spill our blood on the streets!"

"Chains of oppression?" Davthar murmured in my ear. "Is this guy for real?"

"I know, but it sounds like he's definitely our link to the radicals," I said.

"I wouldn't be so sure." Mar's voice crackled in my ear, reminding me that I was in fact wearing a commlink. "Karreth and I will try and get closer just in case, but I'm pretty sure it's smoke and mirrors. You two try and get a foot in the door with the other guys."

Glancing around, I could see that the rough-looking adults scattered around the room were watching the crowd with interest. One in particular caught my eye: a rugged-looking bald woman with a blaster at her hip. She was hovering near the front of the room, eyes flickering across the most ardent of the assembled young radicals as if examining merchandise.

I nudged Davthar and surreptitiously pointed her out. "Think that's our mark?" he asked.

"Definitely," I said as I watched her pull a young man out of the crowd, whispering in his ear before giving him a push towards a side door. I approached as casually as I could, sidling up behind her and waiting for her to notice me. When she noticed me and Davthar there, her eyes narrowed.

"You kids want something?" she asked, looking us over critically.

"Yeah," Davthar said. "We want to fight. Looks like you'd know something about that?" He didn't have to act very hard to sell the 'bloodthirsty' angle.

"Depends on _why_ you want to fight," the woman said, cocking her head expectantly.

"Same reason anyone else is here," I put in before Davthar could say something stupid. "We're sick of being ruled by weak kings who exploit people like us. Difference is, we want to actually do something about it." Calculated disdain. This one didn't seem the type for flowery words like the ones the man in white was still spouting. She would respond better to aggression, so that's what I gave her, drawing on the knowledge I had gained during my research to sell it.

"If the king is so weak, how does he still rule?" the woman asked with a snarl.

"Easy," I said with what I hoped was a darkly confident grin. "Nobody like us has come along to stand up to him yet."

She looked us over for a few seconds. Then she beckoned us towards the same door she had sent the other youth through. "All right, come on. With you two, that's a speeder-full."

Sure enough, a large, bulky speeder sat outside in the semi-darkness afforded by the half-moon that held court in the sky that night. Three young people sat in it already – the man we had seen moments earlier, and two green-skinned Mirialan girls about my own age, who might easily have been twins – along with another bulky soldier-type who looked up as we exited. "We full, then, Yinka?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"These'll do," said the woman, Yinka. "Get the blindfolds on them, Blie."

"Wait, blindfolds?" one of the Mirialans said nervously.

"Don't worry, kid," Blie laughed – not a kindly sound. "We always blindfold people the first couple of times we bring them out. Just until we're sure you're not cops."

Hesitantly, I allowed the big man to tie a strip of black cloth around my head before stumbling into the speeder, finding myself next to the two girls. As I heard Davthar climb in ahead of me, someone – presumably Yinka – started up the speeder and peeled away from the warehouse.

We rode in silence for nearly half an hour. Yinka drove the landspeeder in twisting, convoluted patterns through the city streets so I couldn't even tell which direction we were going, before flattening out. I inhaled deeply through my nose, trying to catch a hint of where we were. It was an earthy, agricultural smell, which confirmed my suspicions that we had left the city, but I was really none the wiser. I thought of the minuscule tracker Mar had supplied me with, buried deep within my clothes. With any luck, she and Karreth would be tracking us now.

I suddenly felt very uneasy. We were diving straight into the gundark's den, here. Two Padawans, sneaking into a secret terrorist base to dig up dirt on its political connections? It was a recipe for disaster. These people were serious, and I was incredibly thankful that I had smuggled my lightsaber in underneath my clothes. If the worst came to the worst . . .

It didn't bear thinking about. Davthar and I were way out of our depth.

The speeder slowed to a stop, and Yinka announced, "Blindfolds off! Welcome to Camp Seven."

"Does that mean there's at least six others?" I couldn't resist asking as I slipped the blindfold off and looked around. It did in fact appear to be a campsite, deep in the woods. The trees grew thick around the large clearing, providing almost complete cover from the sky. Tents of various sizes had been set up all around the area, including one large one at the centre, towards which Yinka marched us rapidly. Were we recruits or prisoners?

Curious eyes watched us from all directions. None of them met my gaze as I looked around, though. I did my best to burn all the faces I saw into my mind. There were maybe thirty people here now, ranging from children younger than myself to old men. At the centre, a single man awaited us, sitting comfortably next to a very rustic campfire. Looking around again, I noticed that very little technology was visible. There were a number of blasters within easy reach of the rebels, but there were no other hallmarks of advanced civilisation anywhere. It was almost as if they had stepped forward in time.

"Welcome, my young friends," the man said as we approached. "Take a seat, please. You must have many questions, but you have been brought here because I believe you will ask the right ones. Do try not to make a liar of me." He was white-haired, despite appearing no older than forty. Human, or something close to it, he had weathered chestnut skin and small brown eyes that gleamed with a kind of dangerous intelligence. Most interestingly, he wore what looked like a military uniform, though any identifying patches had been torn off. He did not stand to greet us, rather waiting for us to join him.

As we sat down, the unnatural silence that had dominated Camp Seven quickly began to be overtaken by what one would normally expect from a busy campsite – the buzz of activity, coupled with the tense quietness of a military operation.

I glanced around the circle, but nobody seemed inclined to say anything. Our host, indeed, was quietly sipping from a hot drink, appearing quite content to sit in silence as if he were simply enjoying the company. Once again, it came down to me to say something. I rolled my eyes inwardly.

"So," I began. "What exactly is the name of this . . . organisation?"

"Does it matter?" countered the man with white hair good-naturedly.

"I suppose it doesn't," I admitted, "but it seemed like a good starting point. In that case, how about your own name?"

He chuckled. "All right, all right," he said, raising his hands in mock defeat. "My name – or at least the name I go by – is Taren. These are my men – the Blades of Vengeance."

"Vengeance against the king?" one of the Mirialan girls chimed in.

"Of course," Taren said. "We all have our grievances against the rulers of this planet; it is what binds us together. They have condemned us, so we rally together and fight. For freedom, and so that people like us can finally govern ourselves."

"And you do this how?" I prompted. With any luck, Mar would be hearing all this over the commlink. "My friends and I have been doing what we can within the city, but I had heard . . . rumours of a group who took it further."

"Of course," Taren said offhandedly. "We are on a different level to the groups you were a part of in Metra. We are labelled criminals and terrorists by those who would see the status quo continue, but our targets are not the innocent citizens of Takshi. They are our brothers and sisters, you see. We must show them our way."

Davthar and the other three were nodding, but I bit my lip and remained still. This wasn't adding up. This couldn't possibly be the sinister terrorist group I had been hearing about. It wasn't that I doubted their capabilities for violence – the beefy forms of Blie and Yinka behind us serving as a present reminder – but rather their capabilities for subterfuge. They were insanely trusting for a supposedly secret anti-government organisation, having welcomed us in as potential new recruits without so much as blinking. As evidenced by the tracker buried in my boot and the lightsaber stashed inside my tunic, their security was practically non-existent. So how had they been giving the police force so much trouble?

"Are there . . . others?" Davthar asked, plucking my next question right out of my mouth. I thanked him silently; I had been debating how to frame that so as not to appear _too_ nosy. "This doesn't seem like many people to stage a revolution."

"Camp Seven does not play host to all of our members – just those who are wanted by our corrupt government. The rest go about their daily lives in the city. When the time comes, all of them will rise up and join us – you young people included, I hope."

"And when will the time come?" the other Mirialan girl asked, her voice softer than her sister's. "Is it soon?"

Taren chuckled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

The tension in the camp suddenly heightened. Sensing that something was wrong, I began to reach for my lightsaber, but Davthar shot me a cautionary glance. The sounds of cocking blasters echoed around the camp, and I realised that we were suddenly surrounded by a hostile force. I didn't dare breathe as Taren stood, regarding the group with faint amusement. "You know, children," he said, suddenly serious, "I don't particularly like being spied upon."

My mind raced. Had he found us out? Had they known from the start that we were bugged? Were we just being dragged out here to die where nobody could save us? These and a hundred more questions whirled through my head as Taren gave a sign and the first Mirialan girl collapsed in a furious hail of blaster bolts.

 _What?_

Taren sighed, striding over to where the girl's body had collapsed and rummaging through her pockets. "Careless," he said regretfully, pulling out a small device and holding it up to show us. "If you're going to try and undermine us, my dear," he said, rounding on the second girl, "you should at least try and use a different frequency to our own comms. What an unfortunate coincidence for the two of you. Now . . . you will tell me who you are working for."

The remaining girl lifted her chin defiantly, staring at Taren with hateful eyes. "I wouldn't give you the time of day, scum!" she spat.

"We shall see," Taren said, shrugging indifferently. "We have ways of getting to you."

The girl gave a bitter smile. "We'll see about that," she said, and before anybody in the clearing could react, she had leapt for one of the overhanging branches, displaying incredible speed and power. As blaster bolts began to fly, she swung herself around the branch like a gymnast, landing atop it in a crouch before jumping again, disappearing into the canopy with barely a rustle.

Taren cursed, his composure lost. "Find her! Capture her, or kill her if you have to. She won't get far, but I want her found!" As the motley gang of rebels hurriedly dispersed into the forest, he turned to Davthar, the other new recruit and I. "You three help too. We need all the hands we can get. There's traps set up around the camp, so be careful." With that, he grabbed a blaster and dashed off after his men.

I glanced at Davthar. "We should go," I said urgently. "At least pretend to look for her."

"Pretend?" Davthar was already moving, striking out in the opposite direction to where the girl had disappeared. "I'm going to catch her and drag her back here. She's our ticket to making these guys trust us!"

I cursed under my breath and scrambled after him. The athletic Zabrak moved through the trees like a true hunter, swift and precise. I felt practically bumbling in comparison, but I did my best to keep up. I used the Force to stretch out in search of the girl's presence, but I was taken aback by how easy it was. The Mirialan was alight with the Force, tapping into it as she fled. "She's a Jedi!" I hissed, unbelieving.

"Impossible," Davthar said, pausing. He closed his eyes for a second. "Wow. You're right. Why would there be another Jedi here?"

"Doesn't matter, but now we _have_ to help her."

"I guess," Davthar grunted, starting off at a sprint again. A commotion some distance away had caught his attention, but I followed more stealthily. I didn't want to run headlong into a fight without checking it out first.

Moments later, we burst out into a small open space at the bottom of a cliff. Glancing upwards, I saw the top some thirty metres above. About six of Taren's men, spread out in a fan formation, had cornered the Mirialan girl against the cliff-face. As I watched, she drew a lightsaber and ignited its fierce orange blade, falling into a defensive stance. She looked helplessly back and forth as the men paused, momentarily taken aback.

One of them growled, "No use taking her alive now, lads. Just kill her!" Before they could even fire, however, the girl lunged forward, spearing the nearest man through the heart with her blade. He gurgled in surprise and fell to the ground as she withdrew the saber, already moving towards her next target.

The surprise wearing off, however, the remaining rebels opened fire. She slipped between blaster bolts and slashed another man brutally through the chest, causing him to collapse. Leaping acrobatically, she flipped and jumped around the field as the rebels peppered the cliffside with blaster fire, always just a hair behind her. She was visibly tiring though, her rapid flight taking its toll. Another two or three soldiers, attracted by the sound of blaster fire, burst through the trees and joined in.

I gave Davthar another look. "Come on," I said. "We can't just leave her."

"Thought you'd never say that," he grinned, igniting his blue lightsaber and charging. Rolling my eyes, I drew my own and sprinted for the newcomers, who were still separated from the main group.

Between the three of us, the mercenaries stood no chance. I blindsided the three men on the edge of the clearing, disarming them and inflicting relatively light wounds as I herded them towards the others, hands in the air. I could only watch in shock, however, as Davthar and the Mirialan girl slaughtered the others, catching them off guard from both sides and aiming to kill.

In seconds, six bodies lay on the ground in pieces. The ferocity of the mysterious Jedi was so great that her opponents had lost limbs, heads and even in one case been cleaved in two. Davthar wasn't much better. "What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed, prodding my captives forward. "Why kill them?"

Davthar didn't meet my eyes, but the Mirialan did. Her gaze was cold and businesslike, as if she had not been dealing merciless death just seconds earlier. "They were in my way."

I started to complain, but she cut me off by whipping her lightsaber up in a blurred orange arc, slicing through the throat of one of the surviving men. She reversed her grip while the blade was still in motion, brutally stabbing it through the second man's face. As they both toppled to the ground, she swung at the third man, but I intercepted her lightsaber with my own, clashing with a loud hiss. "Stop this," I said insistently.

She cocked her head as if considering it. With a shrug, she reached out with her free hand, using the Force to yank the sole survivor forward, throwing his neck violently into the X formed by our crossed lightsabers. Horrified, I deactivated my blade, but it was too late. He, too, slumped to the ground, and the Mirialan whipped her blade around to point at my throat.

"You helped me," she said. "Why?"

"It's the Jedi way," I said. "Something which you seem to have forgotten."

She laughed musically, seeming genuinely amused, but her humming orange blade never wavered. "I am no Jedi, fool. Nonetheless, you did help me, so I will not kill you here."

"Great," I said. "Perhaps you could stop pointing the lightsaber at me, then?"

"I said I wouldn't _kill_ you," she snarled, shoving the blade closer to my neck. I gulped. "I never said I wouldn't –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Davthar cut in, stepping between us. "Look, we don't have to do this. Just knock us out and be on your way."

"Knock us – Davthar!" I cried indignantly.

"What?" he protested, stowing his lightsaber secretly within his tunic again. "We have to make it look realistic. She gets away unharmed, they find us unconscious. We tell them we tried to capture her, but she got away after killing the others. Boom, Taren trusts us, we find out his secrets and get out."

"Good plan," the Mirialan said. Before I could object, she reached out with the Force again, grasping Davthar and slamming him against the cliff like a ragdoll. He slid to the ground in a jumble of limbs, and she turned back to me. "You going to play nice too?"

Reluctantly, I stowed my lightsaber and stepped back, bracing myself. "Fine," I said. "Look, I don't know why you're investigating them, but –"

"Shush," she said, stepping in close and placing a finger on my lips. "If you can get Melita's lightsaber off her body before they find it, I'll be grateful." With that, she drew back her fist and punched me squarely in the face. My world went black, and I felt myself hit the ground.


	12. Money For Blood

_A/N: I'm just gonna pretend there wasn't a gap of a year or more since the last chapter._

* * *

 **Chapter Twelve  
2030  
Sriluur**

* * *

At Kien's insistence, Yuli unenthusiastically retired for the night. The nights on Sriluur were short, he had said, and from now on he could never guarantee when they would be able to sleep next.

At least there was food now, thanks to Thorssk's supplies. It wasn't much, little more than protein bars and dried fruit, but she felt like a queen as she dug in ravenously, not realising how little she had eaten since they had left Takshi. The rations Kien had picked up on Lanteeb had all but run out, so she was reluctantly grateful to the scaly Trandoshan, even though he had almost gotten them all killed.

"Hey, roomie!" Zaara called from the top bunk. "This is nice, isn't it?"

"That all depends on your perspective," Yuli cut back drily. "From here it's anything _but_ 'nice'."

There was a great creaking from above, and Zaara's scarred head popped over the railing. "Look," she said, "I don't mean you any harm. I promise. If you're pissed that I disturbed your love nest, I understand, but –"

"My _what_?" Yuli spluttered.

"Oh, please. Kien told me you were his 'protégé', but I'm not buying that. There's something else going on."

"What makes you say that?" Yuli felt herself blush under Zaara's withering gaze.

"Call it a woman's intuition."

"There's no such thing," Yuli said. "Plus, you're wrong. I'm just his apprentice, that's all."

"You have _got_ to be kidding," Zaara groaned, rolling her eyes. "That's totally not all! I've seen how you hang on his every word."

"He . . . he saved my life," Yuli said quietly. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to find her footing after Zaara's accusations had knocked her off balance. "I was betrayed by people that I trusted, and Kien saved me many times over. I owe him everything."

"Hmm," Zaara droned, rolling over so her head hung upside down off the bunk. "That would explain the Jedi thing, then."

Yuli jumped. "What Jedi thing?" she asked suspiciously.

"Last week, all the Jedi were made enemies of the Republic slash Empire. The timing matches up – if you ran from the attack, you could easily have wound up on Nar Shaddaa when you did. Plus, there's this," she added, waving Yuli's lightsaber over the edge of the bunk.

Yuli clapped a hand to her midriff as if confirming its absence. "When did you-?"

"Hmm, about five minutes ago, I guess?" Zaara sounded largely disinterested as she tossed the saber back down. "You really should be more careful with your belongings, Blue."

"Don't call me that," Yuli snapped as she hid the weapon away again.

"Kien calls you that," Zaara observed teasingly.

"That's . . . different," Yuli mumbled, rolling over and burying her face in the pillow. "Ugh! Talking to you is _so_ not worth it!"

* * *

Cold, slimy droplets of some unholy substance crawled down the black walls, leaving trails in the filth-encrusted surface. The rain on Nar Shaddaa – what little filtered its way down this far – was acidic and stinging, poisoned by the corroding smog that passed for an atmosphere. Everything was damp and harsh tonight, puddles of murderously toxic waste forming in the alleyway's hidden cracks. It was in one of these puddles that his quarry now slumped, gurgling weakly as it fought to lift its head out of the rancid liquid.

Perses revelled in its pain. The furred creature on the ground in front of him would normally have towered over the dark, cloaked figure, but now it knelt, physically unable to stand due to the horrific wounds Perses had inflicted. It was poetic, really. Power, true power, made the weak fall to their knees before it. No matter how tall they stood or how loud they spoke, they were all brought low by the power of the dark side of the Force.

His new lightsaber glowing a dark, satisfying red, Perses struck out again, causing the pitiful figure to scream as another gash appeared on its shoulder. "Tell me," Perses said, his voice deep and cold, echoing clearly through the grille on his mask.

"I told you I don't know!" the Lasat sobbed, its worthless pride already cowed by Perses' fury. "They burned Gravtha's spice and left!"

"But they _were_ Jedi." It was not a question, but the Lasat nodded in pained confirmation, gripping its newest wound with a clawed hand.

"They said they were. That the burned spice was punishment for Gravtha's crimes."

"They could have lied. Did that occur to you, beast?" Perses stooped down to the Lasat's level, grasping it physically by the throat and lifting it from the ground. He spoke slowly, breath rushing through his mask and causing the Lasat to shiver uncontrollably. "Now tell me. Did you see. Their. Lightsabers?"

Unable to speak with its windpipe being crushed, the Lasat nodded frantically, clawing weakly at its throat.

"That will do, then," Perses said, releasing his grip. The Lasat did not fall, though, remaining suspended in midair by a force it could not see. Perses regarded it with some amusement as the hairy creature kicked and flailed, trying to free itself from the grip of the Force.

Turning with a whirl of his blood-red cloak, Perses strode away, leaving the Lasat suspended, choking, in the air. As he reached the corner of the dingy Nar Shaddaa street, he paused, lifting one open hand to where his prey could see it. With perverse pleasure, Perses slowly closed his hand into a fist, one gloved finger at a time, feeling the resistance as the Lasat's windpipe and jugular were both crushed beyond repair.

With a gurgle, the beast's body jerked, its life escaping on its last, laboured, half-breath.

Perses smiled, though his masked visage did not change. Tracking down the Lasat had taken a while, but even a full rotation later, the scent of burnt spice was as plain as day to his heightened senses. Now he had a starting point: Gravtha the Hutt.

Moving ponderously and with sinister purpose, Perses prowled unchallenged through the bowels of Nar Shaddaa.

* * *

After picking up another load of cargo bound for Sy Myrth from a Weequay merchant who seemed distinctly untrustworthy, Kien piloted the _Coruscant Sunset_ away from Sriluur with a cautious sense of peace. For the first time since the _Sunrise_ , they jumped to hyperspace with no sense of urgency beyond a general desire to see his cargo safely to its destination.

"I could get used to this," he mused aloud.

"Master?" Yuli glanced at him from the co-pilot's chair, where she was – at Kien's suggestion – occupying herself by studying the TEX-42's operating manual, which Kien had downloaded onto a datapad.

"It seems we're fairly safe at the moment," Kien said. "I was just thinking that this might be kind of nice. If we can avoid drawing the Empire's attention, I would be fairly happy to make a living this way. What do you think?"

Yuli made a face. "I don't know, Master," she said doubtfully. "It just feels wrong, somehow, to consider even trying to live a normal life after the rest of the Jedi were all killed."

"It wouldn't be normal," Kien said, turning to look back outside the viewport. "I still intend to train you, and I can do that in all corners of the galaxy now. Without the restrictions imposed by the Jedi Council, there is nowhere we can't go. Maybe continue searching out ancient Jedi and Sith artefacts like I used to before the Clone Wars."

Yuli was characteristically silent for a while. "I'm still not convinced, Master, but if you say so, I will follow you anywhere. You know that."

"No," Kien said, raising a finger in warning, "that may be true, but I don't want to train you if I have to drag you everywhere. You have to _want_ to come with me. So take some time to think about it, and if you have a better idea I want to hear it."

"I've told you my idea, Master," Yuli said. "I think I still want to join up with the other Jedi that survived."

Kien nodded. "I thought you might say that, and honestly, I'm willing to do it – simply because I don't know where we would start. But I'll be doing my best to keep an ear out for news about Jedi fugitives. If we can find them before the Empire does . . . well, we may find ourselves with new allies."

"Thank you, Master." A genuine smile. "For both their sake and ours, I do hope we find them."

Nodding thoughtfully, Kien wondered how much of each motivation was influencing his apprentice. He didn't doubt she wanted as many of the other Jedi as possible to be safe, but was that solely out of concern for them? Or was she truly desperate to overcome the impact the Emperor's Jedi genocide had had on her? He would have to watch her carefully, but he had to admit that she was right. If the Jedi Order could somehow survive . . .

 _Don't think about that now._ _It's too soon to be complacent_. He had other things to worry about, anyway – such as the spice he was hauling to Boonta. Another world with a prominent Hutt presence, Boonta could be a very dangerous place to visit if they didn't have their wits about them.

"You need me for this run?" Zaara asked, poking her nose into the cockpit.

"I might, actually," Kien admitted. "How's Blaze right now?"

"He's fine," Zaara said, "but I'm prescribing him another day of rest just in case."

"Better safe than sorry, I suppose," Kien said. He checked his instruments: ten minutes until they returned to realspace in the Dernatine system. "All right, then. You can come with me, and Yuli will stay with the ship."

"Masterrr!" Yuli groaned. "Seriously?"

"I don't want to come back to find my ship missing and my officer kidnapped," Kien said sternly, "and Boonta is the one world on our itinerary I would _most_ expect that to happen. Blaze and the _Sunset_ will be your responsibilities. Do you understand?"

"I . . . yes, Master," she said, bowing her head fractionally. Discarding the datapad, she withdrew from the cockpit.

Zaara nonchalantly took the younger woman's place, picking up the datapad and scrolling through it. "Wonder what's got her in such a tizzy," she said, her tone carefully innocent.

"Don't pretend you don't know," Kien said. "But still, I think this was the right call. She handled herself well on Nar Shaddaa, but here we'll be dealing with the Hutts far more directly. I have . . . a bad feeling about this." The Force had alerted him to something – some impending danger, but he couldn't possibly say what. He was sure of one thing, though: this stop would not be as peaceful as their last.

* * *

Zaara strolled through Hilfik the Hutt's palace with her hover-trolley, doing her best to look casual. Kien seemed completely at ease to her left, but every fibre of her being was screaming at her to run away. Her reason prevailed, however, keeping her almost rooted in place. It was all she could do to stiffly move forward, hands locked on the trolley's guide bar, as the hallways became ever darker and narrower. Strange noises echoed down the twisting, poorly-lit corridors, and all manner of bizarre aliens and creatures pushed past her, jostling the trolley. In typical Hutt fashion, Hilfik's stronghold harboured criminals, scum and fugitives from all over the galaxy, all seeking the crime lord's favour.

"Remind me again why we have to deliver this _in person_?" she hissed to Kien. "Isn't there, I dunno, an inbound deliveries gate or something?"

"Oh?" Kien sounded mildly amused. As the hallway narrowed, he moved his trolley ahead of hers, falling into single file. "Is our resident cool, calm and collected medic suddenly worried once it's her neck on the line?"

She scowled. Damn him and his ability to see right through her at the most inconvenient times. She would have to tell him the truth before long; she wouldn't be surprised if he had already deciphered it, although he wasn't letting on. "This frelling place just gives me the willies," she said, shivering involuntarily.

"The smell's not exactly welcoming, either," Kien said over his shoulder. "Relax, cupcake, but do keep your blaster handy."

"Cupcake? _Cupcake_? Why, I oughtta –"

"Shh," Kien said. "We're here."

Finally, they stopped at a small door, barred and flanked by two enormous, repulsive Gamorrean guards. Favoured servants of the Hutts, the Gamorreans' bulk, intimidatingly porcine features, and tiny brains made them ideal guards – so long as no critical thinking or improvisation was needed. The large, wicked axes they carried still bore signs of dried blood from the last unfortunate to cross Hilfik.

"Greetings," Kien said with a bow. "I have a delivery for your master."

One of the Gamorreans grunted aggressively, brandishing his axe and displaying huge, blunted fangs.

"Relax," said Kien, a strange intensity suffusing his voice as he waved a hand dismissively in front of the boar's face. "We're just passing through."

Snuffling acceptingly, the Gamorrean stepped aside, and after a moment's hesitation, his partner did too. Flicking them a casual salute with one hand, Kien pushed his trolley right through the door.

Hilfik's throne room was bright and opulent. The slimy Hutt himself occupied a large dais in the centre of the red-carpeted room, surrounded by cronies, advisors and guards who reclined on elegant silver chairs or stood about chatting. As Kien and Zaara entered, a few of Hilfik's entourage turned to inspect them, but most paid them no heed.

Kien let out a quiet whistle. "This is a lot – and I mean a _lot_ – nicer than the last Hutt palace I had the displeasure of visiting. They tend to be kind of . . . filthy," he whispered confidentially.

"Great!" Zaara hissed. "Take a picture, and you can admire the décor at length. _Later._ For now, just get us out of here!" The looks Hilfik's hangers-on were giving her were less than pleasant, and she was forcefully reminded of the types of scum that Thorssk kept court with – though these were definitely meaner.

"Relax," Kien said insistently. "I got this." Striding forward, he stood before Hilfik's platform and waited, arms calmly folded behind his back.

Zaara hung back, uncertain, as one of Hilfik's lieutenants stepped forward and held a whispered conversation with Kien. She thought she saw money change hands. Eventually, the lieutenant seemed to be satisfied, for he nodded, moved back towards the Hutt's platform and announced, "Captain Fulbar of the _Coruscant Sunset_ , on behalf of Nar Shaddaa's Thorssk."

Kien bowed low to the ground and began, "Oh great and mighty Hilfik, Lord of all he surveys, your power and majesty are in person twice what I had heard. I humbly request to be allowed to do business in your domain."

The corpulent Hutt laughed in his deep bass voice, then jabbered something in Huttese. "Lord Hilfik was not aware his regular captain from Thorssk had been replaced," the lieutenant translated, "but he is willing to accept your business on Thorssk's recommendation. You've caught him in a good mood," the man added.

As Kien conducted negotiations, Zaara let her mind wander, taking in the Hutt's throne room anew. Opulent was certainly the word for it. Grotesque, yet impressive works of art lined the walls, depicting the Hutts' victories in battles of antiquity. Stone sculptures and reliefs of hideous beasts also featured prominently, filigreed with precious metals to make them glimmer in the light. Imagining how many fortunes were amassed in the room gave her a headache. If she lived ten lifetimes, she could never dream of obtaining such riches.

Suddenly, she noticed a man in heavy armour enter the room, pushing through the crowd to reach the dais. He moved with urgency, something that was otherwise in short supply among the Hutt's lackadaisical advisors and assorted hangers-on. Tapping Kien on the shoulder as he haggled over prices with Hilfik's translator, she surreptitiously pointed out the newcomer, who had climbed onto the dais without invitation to whisper confidentially in the Hutt's ear.

Hilfik turned lethargically to regard Kien and Zaara, raising a corpulent eyebrow in apparent surprise. He said something in Huttese again, and the same advisor translated, "Lord Hilfik has been informed that you match the description of a bounty provided by the Empire. His personal bounty hunter, Selphim Drott, has requested permission to take you in and claim the prize." He seemed rather perturbed by the message, nodding almost apologetically to Kien.

Zaara looked at the bounty hunter again. He was a big, blocky man with a shaved head and squinty eyes that gleamed with crafty intelligence. His armour was bulky and a solid red, split into interlocking plates that allowed him a far wider range of motion than it originally seemed. He glared hungrily at Kien as he waited for his master's word to strike.

For Kien's part, he bowed low before entreating, "Mighty and generous Lord Hilfik, I am but a humble smuggler. Surely there is no price on my head – your aide must have been misled."

"There is no mistake, my friend," the bounty hunter said, stepping forward with a wicked scowl and jabbing an accusatory finger into Kien's chest. "You are the disgraced Vice-Admiral Thomas Kien of the Republic Navy, and a Jedi Knight."

Kien sighed, though he appeared unconcerned. "Well, I suppose that answers the questions I had about the fall of the _Sunrise_ ," he said with some resignation, almost as an aside. He turned to the Hutt, still the presiding power in the room, and bowed once again. "So, great Hilfik, will you allow your attack dog here to assault a guest in your own throne room? Or may I be on my way? I know you have no great love for the Empire."

The great Hilfik laughed, a booming sound of genuine mirth that ensured every eye in the room was now on the confrontation in its centre. "It wouldn't be the first time blood has been spilled in here," the advisor translated as the Hutt calmed down, "but Hilfik recognises your audacity and will grant you safe passage out of his palace. However, he will not prevent his men from attempting to collect your bounty outside his walls. His distaste of the Empire does not prevent him from taking their credits when the occasion arises."

"That will have to do, I suppose," Kien agreed, bowing ingratiatingly once more. "Then if Hilfik the Great and Powerful will pay me for my goods, I shall be on my way and we part as friends."

Hilfik waved forward another of his retinue, who counted out the agreed number of credits – in cash, as Kien had requested – then exchanged them for the cases of spice.

Hilfik's laughter followed them out of the throne room as they left – and so did the bounty hunter. He fell into step beside them, armour clanking as he clapped Kien on the shoulder. "Not your lucky day, huh, pal?"

"Believe me, I've had worse recently," Kien said mildly. "Oh, put your gun away, Zaara."

She hadn't even realised she had drawn it, but she slowly holstered the lightweight blaster pistol anyway. She watched Selphim Drott like a hawk as he followed them through the progressively dirtier halls of Hilfik's palace. At least this way was less crowded than the way they had come in, although she wasn't sure whether to attribute that to design or coincidence – or perhaps the crimson-suited giant that was with them. He positively bristled with weapons and gadgetry, but the most prominent item was an enormous, brutal vibrosword strapped to his back. He hadn't been carrying it in the throne room, she noted. Where had it been stashed?

"You seem a decent fellow, Thomas Kien," said Drott nonchalantly as they approached the large front doors. "I hate to kill you."

"You seem decent enough yourself," Kien acknowledged. "I hate to die."

"Unfortunately, you don't have any choice in the matter. By now, my men will have secured your ship, where I suspect you have left the other Jedi Knight you fled with. We'll turn you both in for the bounties. Nothing personal," he said with a shrug. "You can walk away now," he added, nodding at Zaara. "There's no bounty on your head."

 _Yet,_ she thought silently. Outwardly, she simply glared at Drott.

"I think you'll find," Kien said amicably, "that your men might have a little more difficulty securing the _Sunset_ than you thought."

The three of them stepped through the massive, gilded doors that marked the boundary of Hilfik's estate, and Zaara felt the atmosphere change, becoming almost tangibly heavier as the two men took a few steps apart, eyeing each other cautiously. "I sent five of my best," Drott said, reaching behind him and detaching the vibroblade, swinging it about to rest its point on the stone beside him with a horrendous scraping noise. "How many aboard your ship?"

"Just two," Kien said, drawing his lightsaber, though he refrained from igniting it. "Should be a fair fight."

* * *

Yuli's head snapped up, a disturbance in the Force alerting her to a rapidly approaching threat. She dropped the datapad she had been reluctantly studying on her bunk and took up her lightsaber, swiftly moving to the cockpit to survey their surroundings. The Boonta spaceport they had landed in was cramped and poorly maintained, and the _Sunset_ 's landing bay was barely larger than the ship itself. A single wide entranceway connected the area to the rest of the spaceport – where her Master had vanished with Zaara nearly an hour earlier – but the foot traffic outside had conspicuously abated.

She narrowed her eyes, searching for the source of her premonition. She wasn't sure what, but something was definitely up. A flash of silver caught her eye as a small cylinder bounced into the landing bay, rolling to a stop near the _Sunset_ 's nose. Thick black smoke billowed out of the grenade, quickly filling the space and obscuring Yuli's view.

Gritting her teeth, Yuli bolted from the cockpit. "Blaze!" she called urgently. "We're under attack!"

Blaze appeared from the medical bay, determinedly cocking a blaster. "Who is it?" He sounded almost excited to get back into the action.

"No idea. Smoke grenade outside in the landing bay. I'm picking up . . ." She closed her eyes, reaching out with the Force. "Four? No, five people, I think. What do we do?"

Blaze grinned. "We could use the aft guns to blast them. Shoot first, ask questions later."

" _So_ not the Jedi way," Yuli grumbled. "Besides, we don't even know what they want. I know I said we were under attack, but they haven't done anything else yet."

Almost thankfully, the choice was soon taken out of her hands. Somebody pounded on the door, bellowing, "We have you surrounded, Jedi! Come out with your hands up and we might not kill you!"

Yuli threw Blaze a terrified glance, but he just shrugged and levelled his blaster rifle at the door. "Open it," he said quietly, nodding towards the control panel on the wall.

Taking a deep breath, Yuli thumbed the switch. The door slid open, revealing a single armoured man against a backdrop of smoke. Blaze wasted no time in letting loose a withering burst of blaster fire, and Yuli saw at least one bolt slam into the man's neck before Blaze leapt forward, closing the door again just as a volley of blaster bolts rattled out of the dense smoke. They impacted harmlessly against the door, doing no significant damage to the heavy plating.

"Still think they might be friendly?" Blaze asked rhetorically as he punched the intercom button. "Hey, you out there! Get lost before I use you for target practice!"

"They know, Blaze," Yuli said shakily. "They know I'm a Jedi."

"Probably bounty hunters," Blaze said. "What do you want to do?"

Yuli bit her lip. They couldn't take off, not with the roof of the spaceport still locking them in place. Even hovering at a safe height to bring the ship's guns to bear would be impossible due to the narrow confines. "New plan," she said. "I'm going to slip out the cargo hatch. Give me ten seconds, then open this door again and start shooting."

"That's it? That's your plan?" Blaze said incredulously, but Yuli was already moving. She didn't want to think about what sort of trouble her Master had gotten himself into in his absence, but she wouldn't be able to help him until she had dealt with her own problems – and besides, he had left the ship in her care. She would have to apologise later for her attitude, but in the meantime, she had a battle to win. Pausing as she reached the controls for the rear cargo ramp, Yuli stretched out with the Force again. Two enemies nearby, one directly ahead and one off to the side. There were two more towards the front of the ship, tending to their downed friend. She memorised their locations, knowing it would be difficult to keep track of them with the Force and fight at the same time.

The two at the aft of the _Coruscant Sunset_ would be expecting them to try something. Yuli didn't intend to disappoint them. She punched the door release button and the rear of the _Sunset_ cracked open, a heavy slab of metal slowly opening at the top and folding down to form a large ramp. As soon as the gap was large enough, Yuli gathered her resolve and leapt upward with the Force, sending herself shooting out of the cargo hold and a further thirty feet in the air, bursting through the smoke and towards the sky. For a brief moment, Yuli saw the eerie sight of the _Sunset_ 's dark red hull, half-submerged in thick, roiling smoke; then she angled herself downward and dropped back into the smoke.

Landing behind the first bounty hunter, Yuli ignited her lightsaber and dispatched him swiftly with a strike to the back. She wasn't swift enough, however, to silence his sharp, gurgling cry. Not exactly Jedi-like, but she was outnumbered and blinded. Her Master would have understood – in fact, he may even have approved, preaching flexibility as he did. She raised her guard as more plasma bolts rocketed towards her out of the smoke, barely managing to deflect and avoid them.

Turning blindly towards the source of the bolts, Yuli gathered the Force in her left hand and _pushed_ , creating a broad wave of energy that scooped the smoke up like a liquid, shunting it away from her and revealing the enemy, an armoured, helmeted woman with two blaster pistols. She leapt away as Yuli approached, rolling behind a discarded crate and firing over the top. Yuli deflected the bolts as she charged forward, diving over the crates and slashing down with her lightsaber.

"Not bad!" the woman taunted, her voice muffled by her helmet as she dodged nimbly out of the way. She dropped her pistols mid-leap, drawing a short, dagger-like vibroblade from her belt and transitioning rapidly into a rapid swipe at Yuli's face. Instinctively bringing her lightsaber up to deflect it, Yuli was surprised when they clashed with a loud sparking noise. Shoving the weapon away, Yuli twisted her blade in an attempt to disarm her opponent, but the clumsy manoeuvre was easily avoided.

Behind her, Yuli heard shouts as Blaze engaged the two other mercenaries, clearly exchanging blaster fire around the _Sunset_ 's main door, though she could see nothing; the smoke was still thick in that direction. The distraction almost turned out to be fatal, as Yuli just barely managed to throw herself backwards away from a strike that would have slit her throat. This woman was a dangerous opponent, she realised, abandoning her acrobatic Ataru stance and slipping back into a more traditional dueling form.

The two circled each other cautiously, the bounty hunter's stance low and predatory. Yuli was outmatched in terms of combat skill, and she knew it. With the woman's weapon somehow able to block lightsabers, her only advantages were her lightsaber's reach and ability to call upon the Force. Her knowledge of Makashi was limited, though she now wished she had spent more time studying it. Though designed for battling other lightsaber-wielding foes, it would have helped her significantly here.

Remembering her incomplete training in Form II, Yuli began to probe her opponent's defences, stepping in swiftly and feinting before moving back and repeating. The bounty hunter ducked under a swipe and pushed forward with her shoulder, whirling to strike at Yuli's lower torso. Yuli blocked clumsily, catching the curve of the vibroblade on her lightsaber. Before she could push it away, though, the bounty hunter spun again, driving her foot into Yuli's left knee and causing her to collapse to the dirt. Yuli lost sight of the knife for a split second, and when she caught it again it was flying at her face. Lashing out desperately with the Force, she caught the woman off balance, throwing her to the ground.

Still half-kneeling herself, Yuli lashed out with her lightsaber, slicing through the bounty hunter's helmet. She rolled away, tearing the damaged headpiece off and throwing it aside, revealing a fresh, blistering wound not unlike Zaara's. She had a shock of silvery-white hair and clear blue eyes, which narrowed perniciously as she returned to her stance.

"What do you want from me?" Yuli gasped as she dragged herself back to her feet, pointing her lightsaber squarely – if shakily – at the bounty hunter.

"The Empire has a bounty on your head. Dead or alive." The woman lunged, blade flashing.

Yuli had been waiting for that. Instead of blocking as she had done so far, she parried, sliding to the side in a basic Form II step as she used the bounty hunter's momentum against her, spinning to strike at her back in a move that would have crippled or killed a normal opponent. Unfortunately, this woman was no normal opponent. Realising she had been outmanoeuvred, she kept moving, diving away from Yuli's blade.

Fortunately, Yuli's reach was long. Her height working to her advantage as much as the length of her lightsaber, she scored a gash across her adversary's back from shoulder to shoulder, cutting through her plastoid body armour like tissue paper. Her dive roll interrupted, the woman went sprawling on the ground, unmoving.

Breathing heavily, Yuli strode over and turned the woman over with her foot. She still breathed, albeit shallowly, and her face was a half-conscious mask of disconnected pain. Bending down, Yuli secured the strange vibroblade, powering it off and thrusting it into her own belt. She would get her Master to take a look at it later, but for the moment . . . she still had opponents to face.

She couldn't see Blaze and the two remaining mercenaries through the smoke, but she could still hear blasters firing rapidly. Taking advantage of the brief moment of respite, she closed her eyes and stretched out a hand, drawing on the power of the Force to seek out her enemies once more. The three of them – one seriously wounded by Blaze's initial attack, and two still fighting – were clustered together near the bay's entrance. While still tapped into the Force, Yuli breathed deeply and pushed the smoke away again. It was thick and heavy, some special kind that lay low to the ground and remained for a long time, but before the Force it was meaningless. The roiling clouds parted before her, revealing to her eyes a mirror of the scene that her mind had conjured.

Clenching her teeth, Yuli charged at the surprised bounty hunters. To her right, she dimly sensed Blaze stop firing as she entered his range, but she didn't care. She was ready to fight now, and fight she did. One of the men dropped his blaster to pull out a short blade, but he wasn't even half the swordsman his comrade had been, and his vibroblade was not reinforced with whatever material had repelled her lightsaber. It melted like butter, and Yuli kicked the surprised man in the chest, adding a light push with the Force to send him flying into the wall. Slashing at the only remaining mercenary's hand, she severed the blaster at the stock, along with a couple of the man's fingers. He howled and fell to the ground, clutching the wounded hand.

Yuli finally came to a dead stop, her lightsaber humming dangerously at the man's throat. Gurgling incoherently, he raised his hands – one mutilated, one whole – in the air in surrender. "Come on, Blaze," she said loudly, suddenly realising how drained the encounter had left her. She sighed. "Let's tie up some bounty hunters."

* * *

Kien ignited his lightsaber, raising it vertically in front of his face in a duelist's salute. The yellow blade hummed eagerly, almost seeming excited to see its intended use in battle again. "Zaara," Kien said levelly, handing her the bag of credits he had been paid, "please stand aside. Hail the _Sunset_ if you can, but this is my fight."

"Right," she said, clearly reluctant, but she withdrew.

Kien glanced around, sizing up the battlefield: the landing at the top of a wide flight of stairs, leading up to Hilfik's palace door, an ornate golden double affair some eight metres high. The flat section was plenty spacious for a straight lightsaber duel, but the impractically enormous two-metre blade of his opponent would make manoeuvring difficult. In a worst-case scenario, he could retreat down the stairs; the locals that had been hurrying up and down the stairway were rapidly making themselves scarce, casting worried glances at the two combatants and their very differently imposing weapons. Drott's vibroblade was little more than a massive hunk of metal with a sharp edge, rugged and threatening. It almost seemed to exude death. Kien, on the other hand, was well aware of the panic and awe that could be inspired by the Jedi's signature weapon. A refined, elegant instrument, the lightsaber was nonetheless a powerful tool of death and was respected as such.

With a leaping charge, Drott sent himself barrelling towards Kien, delivering a mighty overhead swing with his enormous sword. Kien leapt aside, allowing the blade to slam into the stone behind him as he tested his opponent's guard with a swift strike to the shoulder. His blade scored a gash in the crimson armour, but could not reach the flesh beneath, so he retreated carefully, twirling his blade distractingly in front of him.

The next attack came from the side, a powerful swing with the whole momentum of Drott's body behind it. Though he could easily have dodged it completely, Kien only stepped back far enough to make an attempt at parrying it, holding his lightsaber in a reverse two-handed grip. As it turned out, he might as well have tried to parry a charging gundark for all the good it did him. The force of the impact made his arms shake, and he just about dropped his lightsaber as the vibroblade continued its swing, narrowly missing his chest.

 _All right,_ he thought, abandoning the defensive Soresu stance in favour of something more manoeuvrable. Defending against Drott's wild strikes was practically impossible, so his only option was to avoid them. Leaping over another ponderous strike – this time aimed at his legs – Kien flipped effortlessly over the big man's head, landing behind him and slicing at the backs of his knees.

Drott bellowed and spun faster than Kien would have expected, letting the blade swing him even as he swung it. Sacrificing fine control for raw power made it easy for Kien to duck beneath it, however, stabbing forward into the weakened shoulder plate. The lightsaber blade sank into Drott's upper chest, causing him to howl with pain and hurl the vibrosword away. It clattered down the staircase, taking chips out of it as it fell. Kien made to press his advantage, but Drott leapt backwards with deceptive speed, rapidly creating distance between them.

Before Kien could close the gap once more, Drott drew another weapon, a pistol which belched roiling tongues of flame. Unable to deflect such a violent assault with his lightsaber, he was forced to cloak himself in the Force, allowing him to deflect most of the flames harmlessly away from his body.

When the flames dissipated, Drott was right in his face, a smaller vibroblade in his hands. Similar in length to Kien's own lightsaber, it was infinitely more manoeuvrable than his previous weapon. Kien backpedalled rapidly, parrying Drott's powerful strikes as best he could. Suddenly finding himself on the defensive, he backed carefully down the stairs, clashing against Drott's blade. Though it lacked the sheer power and size of his previous weapon, it was all the more deadly for it. Drott's use of the two-handed blade had masked an unexpected level of skill, which he now used to press his attack, hammering away at Kien's guard as he drove him backwards.

Though it was far from a classical lightsaber technique, the forceful battering reminded Kien of Davthar, a proponent of the dominating Djem So style. Characterised by wide, powerful sweeps and overhead strikes, Djem So was an incredibly aggressive form, but its one major flaw was an inherent lack of mobility. With any luck, the same weakness could be applied here, Kien thought, though he was already having enough trouble just staving off the constant barrage of attacks from higher ground.

Gathering his focus, Kien leapt, climbing well out of Drott's reach before dropping again, lightsaber first in an unwitting mirror of his apprentice's move just minutes earlier in the spaceport. Drott was well practiced, however, and managed to bring his guard up, intercepting Kien's fall. Even with his whole body weight plus gravity behind his attack, Kien's lightsaber was confidently intercepted and shoved aside.

He let it happen, allowing his body to flow with the movement and landing a few steps above Drott on the stairway. Rather than pressing his attack, though, he waited for the powerfully-built bounty hunter to turn and look up at him, blade at the ready.

"I don't intend to kill you, you know," Kien said.

"I know," Drott said. His voice was laboured, Kien noted; moving around so much in that heavy armour must be taking its toll. "Unfortunately for you, you're going to have to if you want to leave this planet in one piece."

"Come on, my friend," Kien said, spreading his arms wide. "It's not worth dying for whatever bounty the Empire has put on me."

Drott started to say something, brandishing his sword, but his words were drowned out by the noise of the _Sunset_ 's engines as the brick-red ship rocketed dangerously low across the cityscape, scattering small traffic as it bore down on Hilfik's palace, Blaze's grinning face visible in the cockpit as it approached. Coming to rest at a hover some ten metres above their heads, the aft cannon swivelled to aim squarely at Selphim Drott, who dropped his weapon with a foul expression, raising his hands in the air.

Kien shrugged. "Looks like your men weren't as capable as they seemed," he shouted over the noise of the engines. The main door slid open, prompting Kien to glance over at his companion. Zaara wouldn't make that jump, but there was nowhere for the _Sunset_ to land. Blaze sent a clear message: _this is as good as it gets._

Kien sighed, then deactivated his lightsaber and beckoned Zaara over. She came hesitantly. "What are you planning?" she groaned, sizing up the distance between them and the ship.

"Hey, Zaara. You always wanted to know what it felt like to be a Jedi, right?" Kien asked.

"What? I never said –"

" _Right?_ " he repeated more insistently, grasping her by the waist and propelling them both upwards, ignoring her half-scream of hastily swallowed protest. The _Sunset_ 's door was not large, but he managed to slingshot them both through it, collapsing awkwardly on the floor in a heap. "I think it's time we left!" he bellowed down the hallway.

In the cockpit, Blaze gave a thumbs-up and pulled the _Sunset_ up and away, rocketing towards the upper atmosphere as the door slid shut. Kien let his head fall back, exhausted both from his battle and his unexpected drawing upon the Force.

"Get the frell away from me, you beast!" Zaara grumbled, shoving him bodily off her.

"Ow! Guess I deserved that," Kien admitted, pulling himself to his feet and offering Zaara his hand. She slapped it away, standing up on her own.

"Here's your damn credits," she said, thrusting the pouch into his hands and stalking away to her cabin.

Kien watched her go with mild amusement. "Whoops," he said aloud – but quietly enough that she wouldn't hear him. "Guess it wasn't what she expected it to be after all."


	13. Close

**Chapter Thirteen  
1200  
Boonta**

* * *

After taking over the controls and sending Blaze back to rest, Kien set a course for Sy Myrth.

"Master, what exactly was that all about?" Yuli had joined him in the cockpit, leaning against the door frame. Her clothes were lightly scorched with blaster fire, but she appeared unscathed. "We were attacked by bounty hunters at the spaceport."

"It seems the Empire has put bounties on both of our heads," Kien said, swivelling in his chair to regard her grimly. He slid the door closed with the Force so they could speak privately. "Looks like our little escapade on the _Sunrise_ did not go as unnoticed as we'd hoped."

"Guess not," Yuli sighed. "So now we have to be on the lookout for bounty hunters as well?"

"So it would seem." Kien fiddled with his datapad, checking their updated itinerary as the autopilot initiated the jump to hyperspace. "We're not exactly the galaxy's most wanted, though, or somebody would have jumped us on Nar Shaddaa. I'll just have to rely on not being recognised, or else we'll never be able to do business."

"Doesn't sound like much of a life," his Padawan grumbled. Knowing it to be more than just a simple sign of discontent, Kien turned to look her directly in the eyes.

"I thought we had already established that this was going to be difficult," he said patiently.

"I know, but what sort of life will it be if we can't even show our faces on an inhabited world?"

"You'd rather die, then?" Kien offered. "If you want to give yourself up to the Empire, I can't stop you."

"Of course not!" Yuli protested, slamming a fist against the wall in frustration. "I just . . ."

"I'm open to ideas, Yuli. You know I don't want this any more than you do, but I just can't see any other way. We'll stay on the move for now. Maybe one day, we'll find somewhere quiet and out of the way, where we can settle down and train in secret while still keeping our ears open." He shook his head, feeling a little despair creep into his voice. "The stakes have changed, Yuli. In the Clone War, we fought – both you as a Jedi, and me as an officer – against an enemy we could see. We had resources, allies, troops. It was a difficult war, but it was a clear one, a winnable one. Now we don't have any of that. The entire galaxy is our enemy now."

The anger dissipated from Yuli's face as he spoke. By the time he stopped talking, she only looked tired. "Moons, Master. I'm so sorry," she said quietly.

He shook his head. "Don't be sorry, Blue. I . . . I'm flying blind here too. Remember, I never had an apprentice either, so this is all new to me. Please, just . . . just promise me you'll go along with it. We have to feel our way through this, and I won't be able to unless I have your support. Can I count on that?"

Yuli's inner turmoil showed through clearly on her face. Kien knew it was a big ask for someone who had spent their whole life being trained by competent, self-assured Masters in a familiar, comfortable environment. The question was one of trust. He needed her to trust him implicitly, to believe that he would get them through this, for his own belief was not strong enough.

After what seemed like an age, Yuli nodded, a faint spark of life returning to her jet-black eyes. "It won't be easy, Master, but I think . . . I think I can do that."

Kien quirked an eyebrow. "Nobody ever learned anything from an easy life, Blue. The years ahead will be hard, but if we can make it through, it will be side by side as master and apprentice, forged in the crucible of adversity."

Something in her face seemed to crumble as Yuli sat on the edge of the co-pilot's chair, rubbing her head absently with one hand. "Now you say that, Master . . . it scares me. I know I shouldn't be letting myself feel afraid, but with so much uncertainty all around me . . ." She tailed off, gesturing helplessly.

There was a frailty to her. Kien had seen it, of course, in the aftermath of Palpatine's betrayal and genocide of the Jedi. Frankly, he would have had to have been blind to not see how it had affected her, but even the weakness she had reluctantly shown him then was a cover for something deeper. Glimpses of it leaked through whenever her façade cracked, and while she quickly covered it up each time, he had begun to wonder if there was another layer to her distress.

This was his proof, though he should have realised it earlier. _Poor, poor child_. She really was just a girl, after all. Her past had collapsed with the Jedi Order, everything she had ever known gone in one blow. Her future was uncertain, dark and plagued with trials. The only thing she had right now . . . was right now. As her Master, it was his responsibility to make sure that this moment in space and time remained steady, something she could – something they could _both_ hold onto.

Swiftly, he stood, grasping Yuli's hands where they rested limply on her seat and pulling them towards him. "Listen to me, Yuli," he said, trying to inject some semblance of control into his voice.

"M-Master?" she stammered, reflexively trying to pull her hands back, but Kien held fast.

Words. What good were words now? _Listen to me_ , he had said. He said that a lot, but he rarely said anything worth listening to. Words would do him no good here.

Pulling Yuli to her feet and throwing all propriety to the winds, he drew her into a fierce embrace. The scent of smoke and tibanna gas still lingered in her lavender hair, he noted absently as he stroked the back of her head with one hand. She was warm, dark and trembling, a flickering presence in the Force that mirrored the small, wavering creature in his arms. An overwhelming desire to protect her rushed through him, stronger than any impulse that had compelled him to take her on as an apprentice. No, before he could truly consider training her in the ways of the Jedi, he had to make sure she was properly taken care of – and that responsibility fell squarely on him.

"Master . . . Thomas," Yuli mumbled, her face buried in his shoulder. She squirmed awkwardly, as if considering pulling away, but then he felt her slump against him, shoulders heaving as tears began to roll from her eyes. In response, he only stayed silent, drawing on the Force to soothe her with its energy, gently wrapping it around her in the same way his arms did. There was something incredibly _wrong_ about this, he knew, but it was surprisingly easy to discard his instincts and let himself hold her close.

This was why the Jedi Order forbade attachment, he reflected with detached, bitter amusement as Yuli's sobs grew louder. Growing attached to somebody, however platonically, was always the start of a long, painful road for a Jedi – a path he knew all too well. Although the last time had ended in disaster, a strange sense of clarity made Kien comfortably aware that he would not repeat the same mistakes.

Even if just for today, he would indulge his apprentice for as long as it took.

* * *

Physically, standing intertwined in the cramped cockpit was not the most comfortable thing Yuli had ever done, but any discomfort in her limbs was simply ignored; she was quite content to bask in the revolutionary new sensation that was human contact.

Part of her rejected it violently, screaming at her to pull away. The Jedi Temple had not been a place where intimacy of any kind was tolerated, be it physical or emotional. Stark and balanced, the Jedi way was harshly individual, emphasising the importance of the one as part of the many, but never making any efforts to reconcile the many and the one. As such, her only memories of actually touching other beings were limited largely to combat training, practicing unarmed techniques with the other younglings. Moons, how many years ago had that been?

This was something different. Different, unique, and a little frightening . . . but Yuli was taken aback by how incredibly _safe_ it felt. Tears fell from her eyes unbidden and unchecked, soaking the shoulder of Kien's shirt, but she still didn't want to move. One strong arm on her back, the other hand gently stroking her hair, her entire being overwhelmed and surrounded by her Master's presence in the Force, she let herself surrender entirely.

She had shown him her fear, her sorrow at the loss they had endured. Those were nothing, she realised, before the blistering well of emotions that spilled out of her now. For a while, she shook herself free of the constraints of her Jedi training, shivering violently as her pain, rage, terror and seemingly interminable sadness flowed out of her, the visceral strength of her feelings shocking even her.

She wept freely as shattered fragments of familiar maxims plucked at the corners of her mind: _Fear is the path to the dark side. Hate leads to suffering. Anger is not the Jedi way. Vengeance solves nothing_. Yet even as she let her bottled-up negative emotions free, she felt herself being cleansed. Kien was _there_ , so solid and reliable. He held her physically, as well as in the Force, stripping the impurities from her as she cried them out and returning them, blunted and weakened.

She would never be truly free of what had happened, she realised. Until the day she died, she would carry the burden of thousands of Jedi who had fallen where she had not. But accepting that was part of coming to terms with it, and now she realised that she didn't have to do it alone. Where Master Sinto had been understanding but distant regarding her quirks, Thomas Kien burned with an altogether different brand of empathy. Its intensity frightened her somewhat, but at the same time she realised one of the primary benefits of operating outside the strict tenets of the Jedi Code: freedom to feel. Even if it was just for the moment, she didn't have to bury everything deep inside her. Kien was here, Master and friend. He would help. He accepted her burdens with open arms, and she felt a great weight lift from her shoulders as he shared the load.

Feeling simultaneously better and worse than she ever had before, Yuli let herself go, sinking further into him and crying like the little girl she had never been allowed to be.

In the end, Yuli lost track of time as she let Kien hold her. After a seemingly interminable period of time, the shrill beeping of the nav computer shocked her out of her trance-like state. Caught off guard, she detached herself from Kien and fell back into the co-pilot's chair with a thump, heart racing. _Moons_.

Kien blinked in surprise, then threw her a wry smile and turned to inspect the nav computer. "We're coming up on Sy Myrth," he said, almost as if he hadn't spent the last half an hour holding Yuli as she wept on his shoulder.

"M-Master, I . . ." She cursed her weak voice. Pushing away the tears she hadn't realised were still falling, she tried again. "I'm sorry, Master."

"I told you, didn't I?" Kien put a comforting hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look him in the eye. "We're a team now, so we handle everything together. Deal?"

She hesitated only for the briefest of moments. "Deal," she said, letting herself smile genuinely through the rapidly drying tears.

"Good," he said. "Now go and clean yourself up – you're coming with me on this delivery."

* * *

Gravtha the Hutt lay dead at Perses' feet. The hideous, bloated corpse of the slug-like Hutt was criss-crossed with dozens of vicious lightsaber wounds; the creature's sheer mass had provided him with great entertainment as he sliced through its fatty, disgusting hide.

The lights in the room flickered and sparked, filaments crushed and torn by the storm of dark side energy that emanated from the cloaked, masked Inquisitor. His quiet fury at the Hutt's lack of cooperation pulsed around his body in a visible aura of dour blackness, infesting every corner of Gravtha's private residence in Nar Shaddaa's upper levels. The bodies of more than a dozen guards lay sprawled around the walls, eviscerated by a flashing lightsaber or crushed with the power of the Force. Gravtha himself now lay dead also, having surrendered as much information as Perses was going to get.

The Hutt had known nothing. Upon hearing of the sabotage, he had originally believed it to be a business rival who had outwitted the trap he had set at the apparently poorly-defended warehouse. However, when one of his unfortunate henchmen – the Lasat that had led Perses here – had mentioned the Jedi were involved, the trail had gone cold. None of the Hutt's rivals had the political clout to bring a Jedi all the way out to Nar Shaddaa, so the mystery of the destroyed spice remained a mystery – and a disaster.

Gravtha had been less than willing to tell Perses anything, even after he had dispatched the guards in seconds, so he had been forced to coax the full story out of the crime lord. Sweet talk and negotiation had never been one of Perses' strengths, even before the Purge, so he had used pain instead. Oh, how his lightsaber had sizzled as it carved through the bloated rolls of his quarry's flesh! What glorious music!

But now the Hutt had breathed its last. Delivering one last, wrathful strike that split Gravtha's corpse near clean in two, Perses stalked from the room. Outside of the other Hutt lords – who tended to be loyal to their own – Gravtha's biggest competitor was a Trandoshan based in the Corellian sector. He, like the others Gravtha had mentioned, would normally have no way to bring a Jedi to the Smugglers' Moon and make them do his bidding, but perhaps he could give Perses a hint as to who could.

He would continue his investigation at the _Saurin Pride_.

* * *

Double-checking for perhaps the tenth time that he had the right crates, Kien headed for the arranged meeting point outside the spaceport. He wasn't exactly 'smuggling' per se – the customs official had given the crates a cursory glance and waved them through – but still, he kept one hand on his lightsaber.

As a founding member of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, Sy Myrth had been one of the fallen Jedi Dooku's staunchest supporters. While news surrounding the recently announced end of the Galactic Civil War was spotty at best, Kien had managed to gather that the Separatist leaders had been assassinated during a secret conference in the Outer Rim, effectively taking the head off the Separatist movement. Much of the former Confederacy had surrendered to the newly formed Empire in the following days, but Sy Myrth had evidently not followed suit.

Everywhere he looked, the hallmarks of war were still evident: B2 battle droids provided security at the spaceport, and the native Sy Myrthians – large, slightly grotesque beings resembling Hutts, only hairier and not _quite_ as fat – moved with their heads down, lending the planet a sombre air that was only exacerbated by the smoky grey sky and industrial grinding that permeated the soundscape.

"Master," Yuli whispered. "Should we even be here?"

Kien grimaced. "I don't like it, but we don't have a choice." Where Boonta had been obviously dangerous thanks to its lawlessness and reputation as a Hutt stronghold, Sy Myrth carried a totally different kind of menace. It was subtle and not at all obvious at first glance, but if he concentrated he could feel the quiet, implied threat that lay beneath the surface.

The spaceport was filthy and nearly deserted; smeared with grease, smoke and oil, as spaceports were wont to be, it was also home to some of the most battered-looking ships Kien had ever seen. Freighters, mostly, but occasionally they passed a vessel that seemed to have a more nefarious purpose.

After a few more minutes in the quiet halls of the spaceport, Kien and Yuli emerged, rewarded by a thoroughly depressing view of the city. The name had been nearly unpronounceable, but Kien had forgotten it already. All that mattered was finding the recipient listed on his datapad in the smoggy, low-rise forest of drab, oversized buildings and crumbling streets,

That would be easier said than done. "We're looking for a Rodian," Kien said, sighing and pocketing the datapad he had been checking. "Name's Filzo, makes a living trading in uncommon ship parts."

"Parts like . . . whatever these are?" Yuli guessed, popping one of the crates open and peering inside.

"Standard Republic-issue military-grade transponder systems," Kien recited. "Not technically illegal, but damned hard to get your hands on in Separatist space."

"Well, lucky us," Yuli grumbled. "Hauling toys for some Separatist flyboy with a fetish for Republic transponders is not exactly high on my priority list."

"Me neither," Kien admitted, "but we have a job to do. Let's just get these delivered so we can send Thorssk his credits."

* * *

Zaara grumbled. Being confined to the _Coruscant Sunset_ on Sy Myrth chafed her immensely, as did taking orders at all, let alone from the ever-so-slightly infuriating Captain Thomas Kien. Were all Jedi so self-righteous? She hadn't escaped from Thorssk's service to throw her lot in with another despotic leader.

No, she decided, she was overreacting. Even if he had been distracted lately, Kien was a good captain. That much was evident by how naturally he assumed command. He was clearly ex-military, but what sequence of events could possibly have led a Jedi Knight away from the Order, into military service, and then finally to the helm of a pirate ship?

It didn't matter, she decided. How could she desire to know more about his past when she wouldn't even reveal her own? She would have to come clean on that front eventually, though – before they reached Betha II and it was revealed that she had no friends there after all.

For the dozenth time since they had landed, the personal holocommunicator built into her wristguard blipped. _Thorssk again. Frell_. He would not have taken kindly to her abandoning his employ on Nar Shaddaa. If he discovered that she had doctored his records and inserted herself as a passenger on the _Coruscant Sunset_ , there would be hell to pay. Despite not getting offworld himself much these days, the old Trandoshan still loved a good hunt, and he had plenty of fearsome predators on his payroll. No, it was for the best if she simply let him assume she had disappeared.

Her comm fell silent, and mere moments later, she heard the tell-tale tone that indicated an incoming transmission through the main computer. Slipping out of her cabin and down to the cockpit, she shut off the alarm before Blaze could hear it, allowing the call to go to a one-way transmission.

 _"Kien, are you there?"_ A 3D representation of the Trandoshan's scaly, flat face flickered into view over the dashboard, causing Zaara to flinch. _"Stupid fuckin' machine. Where are you now, Sy Myrth? Maybe Budpock by now, if you were quick. Anyway, you'll get this when you return to your ship. Listen, someone came sniffing around just now. Creepy feller, big dark cloak and a mask. Looking for the Jedi what blew up Gravtha's spice. Normally I wouldn't be too worried – bounty hunters are a dime a dozen, you know – but I just heard that Gravtha was murdered in his own home, along with all his men. Between that and my own fucking bodyguards disappearing . . . let's just say I have a bad feeling about this. Watch your back, and do try not to send any more trouble my way."_ Revolving slowly, the hologram folded back down into the console.

Zaara frowned. That didn't sound good. Thankfully, Thorssk didn't seem to have cottoned on to what she had done, but there was even more worrying news. Rapidly, she raised Kien on the ship's comm.

 _"Sunset, this is Kien. What's up?"_

"I think you need to hear this," was all she said, patching the recording of Thorssk's message through.

Kien remained silent for a moment after it finished playback. _"Was this just now?"_ he asked.

"Yes. I wasn't sure if I should answer it or not, so I just let it play. Do you know this . . . person that's looking for you?"

 _"I don't, and that makes it all the more worrying."_

"It doesn't sound like Thorssk told him where we'd gone, though." Zaara crossed her fingers for that. If the mysterious bounty hunter had unnerved even Thorssk, she wasn't sure she wanted to meet him any time soon.

 _"Still."_ Kien's voice was grim. _"I don't want to take any chances. Get Blaze and prep the ship for launch. Yuli and I have just finished our business, so we'll be back soon. We need to move on to Budpock as soon as possible."_ The line went dead.

"Will do, Captain Wonderful," Zaara grumbled, then turned and yelled back down the corridor: "Blaze! Get up here and power this thing on! We're accelerating our departure!"

Blaze stumbled into the cockpit, apparently having been caught in the middle of something. "What? Why?"

"Just got word from Nar Shaddaa," Zaara reported. "Someone's on our tail, and Kien's spooked. We have to make sure the _Sunset_ is ready to go when they get back."

"All right," Blaze said, swinging into the co-pilot's chair. "I'll run pre-flight checks, you go make sure the cargo is properly secured."

Rolling her eyes – was she seriously outranked by _everybody_ on this bucket? – Zaara nevertheless moved to do as she was told. Some of the crates had been shifted to get the transponders out, so she stacked them back against the walls, locking them magnetically in place.

No sooner had Kien and Yuli returned, credits in hand, than they were jetting away towards Galactic North. Setting the craft on autopilot, Kien called an emergency meeting in the common room.

Calling up a three-dimensional star map on the holotable, Kien traced a line through the Outer Rim. "All right," he said, his face and voice grim. "We've made three stops so far, but we still have three more to go before we head to Betha II." He glanced at Zaara apologetically.

Zaara shrugged, forcing herself to stay calm. "I'm honestly in no great hurry to get to Betha," she said. "Just so long as I get there eventually, I'm happy."

"You're surprisingly accommodating," Kien said with a wry bow. "The problem is, however, that we're now being hunted."

"So what's new?" Blaze said. "I signed on knowing we were going to be fugitives."

"What's _new_ ," Kien said, "is that we are being stalked by someone – or something – beyond anything I imagined. I thought we'd be dealing with clone troopers, maybe bounty hunters. People we can outsmart or, worst case scenario, outfight. Something Thorssk said in his transmission really worried me, so I got back in touch with him before we jumped to hyperspace, and he told me more about the strange man who was asking about us."

"And?" Zaara prompted. "What is he?"

"I still don't know. Thorssk sounded positively frightened of the guy, which doesn't happen often. He was tall, wore a blood-red robe and a fanged mask. Deep voice, glowing red eyes, the works. Whoever it was, he was doing his best to be intimidating."

"Could just be an eccentric bounty hunter," Zaara said with a shrug. "I've worked with some weird bastards in my time."

"True," Kien admitted, "but I sensed something else. I wasn't sure what, though, so I got in touch with some other contacts I have on Nar Shaddaa. Gravtha the Hutt was killed last night – and the rumours say it was done with a lightsaber. Brutally."

"It couldn't be a Sith!" Yuli exclaimed. "Um . . . right?"

"Perhaps not," Kien said, "but I fear we are dealing with one of their assassins. And if that is the case, we are in immediate danger. We have to move quickly and stealthily, finish our job and disappear for good."

"I say we offload the cargo and go to ground, starting at our next stop," Blaze said immediately. "I don't like skipping out on a job, but if there's a Sith assassin coming after us, we can't take any chances."

"Normally, I would agree," Kien said, "but Thorssk is a valuable ally, and I don't want to risk losing that relationship."

"So what do we do?" Zaara stood and challenged him, trying not to let her panic show on her face.

"We go faster," Kien said. "We make our stops, sell our cargo and head to Betha II. It's not on any major hyperspace lanes, so with any luck we can use it as a starting point to disappear entirely."

"You don't think . . . we could take him, do you?" Zaara suggested reluctantly. "I mean, there's four of us, including two Jedi."

Kien shook his head emphatically. "We don't know if he's working alone. I suspect that he is, but until we're sure, I won't even consider putting you all at risk like that."

The room fell into a despondent silence. None of them wanted to admit it, but they couldn't see any way out. Zaara felt herself shiver as she considered what was coming for them.

"Well," Kien said eventually, "no sense in worrying about it. Get some sleep, everyone. I'll send a transmission ahead to our next customer and see if they can meet us at the spaceport on Budpock."

The _Sunset_ 's misfit crew disbanded quietly, their spirits dampened by the announcement. Zaara wasn't particularly tired, but she had learned long ago to take rest whenever she could get it. Folding her arms behind her head on the top bunk, she stared at the ceiling and tried to let the hum of the hyperdrive fill her mind.

A few minutes later, though, Yuli retired to the bottom bunk. "Hey, roomie," Zaara mumbled quietly.

"Hey." Yuli sounded dejected.

"Oh, come on. You were in such a good mood before!" Zaara rolled onto her stomach and leaned over the edge of the bunk to see Yuli with her face buried in the pillow. "Come on, what did you and the captain get up to all alone in the cockpit, hmm? With the door closed, no less!"

Yuli whirled on her, a motion made no easier by her prone position. "Moons, Zaara, I swear one of these days I'll – ugh! Forget it!" Blushing indigo, she rolled back onto her front, covering her ears with the pillow.

 _Ooh, what an interesting reaction_. Yuli had certainly gone on the defensive since Zaara's last attempt at needling the young Pantoran. Did that mean she was right on the money?

Deciding to let it go for the moment, Zaara returned to staring at the ceiling, but this time, a mischievous smile played on her lips.

* * *

Perses' ship blasted through hyperspace at phenomenal speed. Loitering outside the Trandoshan's door after interrogating him had been worth it. He supposed he could have gotten the scum to talk the same way he had the Lasat and the Hutt, but killing pathetic criminals was beginning to bore him.

Taking the normal route, he would reach Budpock in two days or more. The hyperspace lanes in Hutt Space were reasonably well charted, but there were faster, more dangerous channels known only to a few and avoided by most. The run he was on now bypassed the crowded Bootana Hutta region, ignored several well-known systems and ran through some unstable space, so it generally went untravelled by all but the most reckless of captains.

Perses had no time for caution. He had the scent of his prey now, and he had to act fast or they would slip through his fingers.

The hunt was on.


End file.
